Willpower
by With My Radio
Summary: "She drew me in with a force like gravity, and I stood next to her because gravity is a law of nature, alright, how was I supposed to resist?" Will doesn't get the basic theory behind one-night stands.  A MILLION, TWO, ONE from Will's POV.  *Will/OFC*
1. Gravity

This is a retelling of the story **A Million, Two, One** from Will's perspective. **AM21**is completed, but you do not need to have read it for this story to make sense. Actually, you might enjoy **Willpower** more if you haven't, because **AM21** contains some major spoilers for this story. But don't let me stop you from seeking it out if you want to ;)

xxx

**Title**: Willpower.  
**Author**: With My Radio  
**TV Show**: _Glee_  
**Spoilers**: Through Season One, Episode 13 (Sectionals)  
**Pairing**: Will/OFC  
**Categories**: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
**Rating**: The highest you've got. This story is not for children, and not just because of the sex.  
**Extended Summary**: William Schuester's life _was_ perfect... Until he discovered the secret his wife had been concealing from him. Broken and betrayed by her lies, he's looking for oblivion, for something, anything to distract him from his pain. This distraction appears in the form of Honor, a woman who not only makes him forget about his problems but also makes him believe that he can overcome them. With her, he feels like the man he's always wanted to be. But it's just possible that the timing isn't right, and it's just possible that Honor is not all that she seems...

_I would like to dedicate this story..._

_First and foremost, forever and always to _**traceit**_, whose priceless advice saved _**AM21**_ and is the only thing that will make this story readable._

___Then to _jilly74___, who has somehow already added this story to her Alerts. _  


_Next to every reader of _**AM21**_, and especially all of my wonderful reviewers__. Your dedication to the story humbled me, and I will endeavor to live up to your standards with _**Willpower**_, and remain worthy of it._

_Finally, for _Greys has become my life_, because she _really_ wanted it._

_xxx_

**1**

The Liquor Box on East Elm was what my kids at McKinley would call _shady_, a grungy little hole-in-the-wall bar with no television, no food, no expensive microbrews and nothing whatsoever to recommend it to anyone, especially me, which strangely was exactly what had recommended it to me in the first place. It was all the way across town from my apartment, out of my district, the last place I'd ever expect to find anyone I knew, the last place anyone I knew would ever expect to find me. Those things made it perfect. I was a wreck, had been for the past week, but circumstances had made it impossible for me to just let go, fold in on myself and collapse under the weight of my despair, and I just needed… Somewhere to escape, I suppose, escape the watchful eyes of colleagues and students so I could fall apart. That was the first step, I knew. Before I could put myself back together, I needed to fall apart as thoroughly as my life had. And the Liquor Box was the perfect place, anonymous and safe, because it's one thing to drink until you can't see straight and everything fades away and another to do so while a student's parent watches, horrified, and don't ask me how I know, just trust me.

So I was at the Liquor Box, and I was drunk, which had been the goal, so that was nice. I wasn't quite drunk enough, but it was early yet, and every shot of whatever the bartender kept pouring me- and honestly, I have no idea what it was, I'm not a big drinker normally, it just tasted like burning- was wrapping me tighter and tighter into a comforting cocoon of I-don't-care and slowly turning down the volume on my inner monologue, and I had high hopes I'd soon forget my name and everything else that had forced me to the bar in the first place. While I wasn't quite at that point yet, I was certainly beyond the point of inhibition and common sense, either or both of which might have prevented me from volunteering to perform some karaoke for the three other patrons attempting to get as drunk as I was. But I'd volunteered because I'd wanted to, because for me singing is another way of letting go, and I needed to. Also because the bartender promised me a free drink when I was done, and the night had been pretty expensive as it was. And this is why I was singing on stage with deep emotion and very little technique the first time I saw her.

She entered the bar hesitantly, as though she wasn't really sure she wanted to, and glanced over at me with an almost resigned expression on her face, like _Of course I will be forced to listen to bad karaoke tonight, such a thing is inevitable_. Which was strange, and everything, but that isn't why I noticed her. There was just something about her, something that had nothing to do with the way she looked- though even from 50 feet away and in the dark I did note a strong resemblance to the artist whose song I was singing- but she was… _Sharp_. Despite the alcoholic haze I was swaddled in, despite the softness it imparted to everything in my field of vision, she was defined. I could _see_ her. And I threw myself even more completely into my song, not just because the words I was singing were the perfect vehicle to express the devastation I felt, but because I wanted her to look at me, wanted her to see me too.

For a moment, I think she did. She paused just inside the door, watched briefly, cocked her head to the side, and even after she made her way to the bar itself I imagined I could feel her eyes on me. And as I finished the song, threw the full power of my anguish and my voice behind the soaring climax (my favorite part, a series of trilling high notes that hovered just below the ceiling of my range and made me feel like I was flying each time I hit them), I think I was singing as much for her as for myself. The words were powerful, painful, sharp like her outline, and why had I never realized before how desperately sad this song was? How had its upbeat tempo fooled me so completely? _And all the roads I've known will never lead me home to you… Without you, there's nowhere to go home to_. I felt a wave of longing roll through me, yearning so powerful it was physically painful, as I thought of the child I'd wanted so badly, the family that would have been my home, the family that didn't exist, and the song was perfect, perfect, perfect, and then it was over.

The final note hovered in the air for a moment, and I came back to myself slowly, felt her eyes on me again, and suddenly, unexpectedly, I was imagining an alternate reality where I stepped down off the stage and approached her, spoke to her, bought her a drink. It surprised me, almost confused me, because as drunk as I was, I couldn't imagine anything beyond that, even in an alternate reality. I was married, still, technically, not to mention the strangeness with Emma, and anyway I'd never in my life picked up a girl in a bar, had never wanted to, and I'm not saying I wanted to now. Necessarily. There was just something about her. That's all. And whatever it was made me dizzy, lightheaded in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed, as I stepped down off the stage in the current reality, the real one, and made my way to the bar. To her. She drew me somehow with a force like gravity, and I stood next to her because gravity is a law of nature, alright, how was I supposed to resist? But I wouldn't speak to her. Couldn't. The alternate reality was alternate for a reason.

And then she spoke to me.

**TBC**


	2. Peace

_For Dementedx, SweetDisposition34, mattyfresh, PlainJane1, Sierra-Jae and Wemmamazing. Thank you so much for your faith in me... I hope I can prove worthy of it, and make this story worth your while! And of course for _**traceit**_, who gave me the reassurance I needed to post this chapter._

**2**

"You were great up there," she began, her speaking voice somehow musical, low and sweet, in a way that penetrated the alcoholic fog surrounding me and made me shiver.

I turned to her, strangely anxious to see the details of her face, so much more defined than anything else. Her resemblance to Norah Castle was even more marked up close, especially visible in her high cheekbones and wide mouth, the lower lip full and plush, the upper lip formed with a perfect cupid's bow, but she was more beautiful, natural, none of the heavy makeup her celebrity look-alike favored, none of the couture style. The hat she wore obscured most of her hair, but it looked dark in the low light, and her eyes were wide and pale behind the rectangular lenses of her thick-framed glasses. There was a smile on her face, curving gently, and I attempted to match it. Failed. Too many conflicting emotions made it impossible: anguish and despair, of course, my constant companions for the last week, but also confusion at the electric tension I felt in her presence, shock that she'd actually spoken to me, and a strange, dissonant ebbing buzz from the drinks I'd had and my earlier performance, the words of _Summerview_ still sharp like ground glass in my mouth, the aftertaste still bitter.

"Thanks," I said after a pause I feared had been awkwardly long. "It's been a… Kind of a crazy week." Well, that was one way to describe it.

She nodded, her smile widening slightly, warming. "I know all about those. Can I buy you a drink? You look like you could use one."

"I've had too many," I told her, then considered. "Or not enough. Both." And I dimly recalled that in my alternate reality, I'd been the one offering _her_ a drink. It was what gentlemen were supposed to do, wasn't it? I had no idea, never having been in this position before, but it was the kind of thing the male leads in my favorite old movies were always doing, ordering a dame a drink, and who was I to argue with the classics? "Yes, I'll take a drink, but I'm buying. How does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect." There was something in her smile, not a real change in her expression, just an intensification of the expression she already wore, a brightening of it; she was so bright she almost hurt to look at, in a way that made me want to keep looking. But that would have been awkward again, so instead I turned to the bartender and placed our order. I could feel her watching me, a hot, needling sensation pricking uncomfortably under my skin, and it made me self-conscious, goaded me into rambling nervously.

"I saw you when you walked in… I thought it was funny that you look so much like Norah Castle when I was singing that song… You probably get that a lot," I finished lamely, feeling like an idiot for blurting all of that out. _Smooth, Will, very smooth._

Her eyes suddenly seemed opaque as she carefully replied "Yeah. I do get that a lot."

I continued babbling, wanting to reassure her that I'd been paying her a compliment in my own twisted way. "You should be flattered, she's beautiful. And her voice! And she can write… I could go on and on about her."

"Sounds like you're taken, maybe I'm buying the wrong guy a drink," she murmured, and that word, _taken_, pulled me from the pleasant alternate reality I'd imagined I'd been living in and back into the real one, the one where that word described me… Perfectly. Technically.

"Maybe you are," I answered after a moment, thinking of Terri, the woman who still wore her ring though I could no longer bear to wear mine. "Or would be, if you were buying."

Picturing my wife, her face, her voice, her touch, gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, because she had been lying to me for so long, and how had I failed to see it? How had I allowed myself to believe, not just in her lie but in _her_? After sixteen years, I'd thought I'd known her as well as I knew myself. I'd never imagined she was capable of what she'd done. And I couldn't love someone who was capable of that, didn't anymore, and fuck. Fuck.

"I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?" Her voice interrupted my thoughts, and I realized I'd been miles and miles away.

"What?" I shook my head to clear it, focused on her face, the way her even teeth were sinking slightly into her lower lip, the way she leaned closer. "No, no. It's not your fault, I'm just… You know. It's been a-"

"Crazy week, I know," she completed my sentence, mouth tilting sympathetically. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Did I? "I don't know, seems like pouring out all my troubles might not be the most effective seduction technique," I said before I could stop myself. And then I backpedaled, stammering. "Not that I'm… Trying to… You know what I mean." Because I wasn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't? Something.

"Let's just assume I'm already seduced, shall we?" she said dryly, and I almost choked on my beer, but she was joking. Had to be. "Tell me about it. Might make you feel better."

I looked at her and wondered what her reaction would be if I confided in her, wondered if I wanted to. Would explaining the situation, dwelling on it, make things worse? But then I imagined how good it would feel just to have someone, anyone, tell me they were sorry. "I left my wife a week ago," I confessed finally, and saying those words made it all so real.

"For good or just for awhile?" she asked, voice soft.

"I think it's for good," I answered, not actually thinking, then paused when I realized the full impact of that statement. "I think it's for good. Oh, god. I didn't even… I didn't realize it until now, until it was the only thing I could say." And it was, and just like that an entire future was gone, leaving nothing to replace it that I could see, and that blank abyss was terrifying. I felt paralyzed by the thought of it, could hardly breathe as I contemplated it, and oh god. The rest of my life was just a void, just… Nothing, just-

She reached out and touched my shoulder, and her gesture saved me; I felt the contact throughout my entire body, a hot, unexpected, confusing rush, and it wrenched me free of the undertow of blind panic that had almost carried me away. "What happened?"

"It's a long story," I told her, mind still reeling. She had rescued me from my fear, but I found I could still hardly breathe, hardly think, as she touched me.

She fought off a smile, shrugged gracefully. "I have no pressing engagements at present."

"We were going to have a baby," I whispered finally, all the sadness inherent in that statement too strong to be repelled by the power of her contact. "She told me we were going to have a baby, and I thought… I was so happy. I've always wanted kids. I'm a teacher, actually, and I couldn't stop imagining how wonderful it would be to have my own to teach." Oh, god, I would have taught her everything… About life and music, even Spanish. I would have held her hand and kept her safe and loved her, god I would have loved her, already had. Still did, even though she wasn't real, or wasn't mine. And it hurt.

I barely noticed her horrified pause before she spoke again. "Did she… I mean, did something happen with the baby?"

The harsh laugh escaped me before I could contain it. "Yeah, something happened… It didn't exist." And just saying it filled me with the same incredulous anger I'd felt the second I'd realized. How could she? How could anyone?

"She said she was afraid she was losing me, that the baby was the only thing keeping us together," I continued, "but it's funny. I'd never have left her… I'd have stayed with her and tried, and tried, and tried, because I loved who she used to be and I wanted to feel like that again. But the way she lied, what she lied about..."

Again, I raised my beer to my lips, wishing it were something stronger, wishing it were the shot that would finally let me drift into unconsciousness and forget all of this- Terri, her lies, the empty void that had suddenly replaced my future- for a few hours. That's all I wanted, all I needed, at that moment, just to forget. And as I was thinking this, yearning for this, she reached out and covered my hand with hers, gently, skimmed her fingers over it, and again her touch derailed my thoughts, caused my breathing to hitch in my throat.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she murmured, her voice low and husky, and she slid her fingers to stroke the thin skin of my wrist, sending ripples of sensation up my arm, further clarifying the meaning of her words, and I was naïve but not that naïve, and was this really happening? Before I could stop myself I imagined being surrounded by her, moving inside of her until I finally achieved oblivion, finally reached a state where I couldn't think about anything anymore… It was wrong, I knew, for so many reasons, and surely I wasn't seriously considering it, but... (_But I __**want**__ her.)_

My eyes found hers. They were no longer opaque but deep like a pool despite their pale clarity, something dark and unexpected glinting in their depths, something that told me she understood, really understood, what I was feeling, something that drew me. I thought of the ring I used to wear, the vows I had made, but compared to that look in her eyes and the peace that she promised those things just didn't matter.

"Yes," I answered finally. "Yes I do."

**TBC**

_I'm in entirely new territory here, kids, so any and all feedback is _extra_ appreciated. Also, is anyone reading this who hasn't read _**AM21**_, or hadn't until they started reading this story__? I'd especially love to hear from you, if you exist!_


	3. x Surrender

_For _jilly74, Valentinas, Wemmamazing, Sierra-Jae_ and _PlainJane1_. As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I'm glad you're not disappointed so far and I hope I can keep it that way... Also, obviously, for _**traceit**_. She was especially helpful with this chapter, keeping me focused on hitting the emotional notes, and if that comes through at all, it's entire due to her. If it doesn't, it's my fault, obviously._

Please skip this chapter if you're offended by, or too young to read, **graphic adult content**._  
_

**3**

There were logistics to deal with, and doing so was probably my responsibility, but as I remember I didn't fulfill it. Though my car was crouched somewhere in the dark parking lot, waiting for me, I'd planned to call a cab, and though I never did one appeared anyway. Somehow this didn't strike me as strange. After automatically holding the door open for her, I slid in and pressed myself close, far closer than was proper, and felt her warmth seep into me, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. I recognized the low pulse of desire thrumming through my veins, but it was combined with other emotions… Trepidation. Fear. A part of me, the sober part I suppose, couldn't believe I was leaving a bar with a stranger, planning to touch her in ways I had only ever touched my wife, planning to break my promise to keep myself only to the woman I had married. And of course there was the part of me that could hardly wait. She drew me, still, something about her had taken hold of me and wouldn't let go, and as she continued to rub her thumb gently against the base of my wrist I could feel my heartbeat accelerate, my breathing grow labored, and I wanted her. It was so easy to imagine reaching for her, pulling her into my lap, delving under her skirt and unzipping my pants and fucking her in the back of the cab without regard to the driver, and who was I? When had my fantasies become so kinky? If I'd had a single shot more, I think I would have done it, but as I was not quite drunk enough I just alternately wished I was and wondered what the hell was happening to me, what the hell she had done to me.

All of these thoughts racing through my head made the drive pass in a blur, and it seemed like mere minutes later that we were exiting the cab and I was handing the driver a bill of indeterminate denomination, too drunk to examine it and decide if I should wait for change, too nervous to care. By the time I turned around the door to her house was open, and she stood in the small pool of illumination spilled by the porch light, beckoning to me. I hastened to her despite the panic slowly expanding in my chest, and she grasped my hand. There was that jolt of awareness up my arm again, and her fingers were so warm as she laced them with mine, and I could hardly breathe, torn between anticipation and fear. Someone had once told me that one-night stands were fun, that casual sex was low pressure, but that's not how I felt; I felt terror, uncertainty and an almost grim determination. And desire, of course. God did I feel desire. She had barely touched my hand and I was already uncomfortably hard, throbbing against the constriction of my jeans.

She lead me through the darkened house, pulled me up the stairs and past several closed doors before choosing one seemingly at random, throwing the door open and darting inside, taking me with her, and my panic reached a nearly debilitating crescendo. Desperately, I dragged her into my arms, crushed her to me, pressed my mouth hard to hers because if I didn't I was afraid I'd change my mind, and she returned the force of my embrace, of my kiss, with interest. Her lips against mine were as soft as they'd looked, but that was the only thing soft about what we were doing. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, nipped at her with my teeth, and I'd have been afraid I was hurting her if not for the fact that she responded in kind, and I had never kissed anyone like this before, never tasted anyone as though I were trying to devour them or destroy them. But it felt good, perfect, necessary. The taste of her was indescribable, as perfect and necessary as the violence we were committing against one another with our lips, as intoxicating as all the alcohol I had consumed, not just tonight but ever, and stronger.

I buried my hands in her hair, felt it heavy and slick threaded through my fingers, and I used my grip to control her, to force her into the angle that left her mouth most vulnerable to me. She made frantic, arousing sounds in the back of her throat, and I grew harder and harder with every one; I knew she could feel it because she was clutching at my shirt, holding me to her. Then somehow my shirt was unbuttoned and she was pulling away just enough to help me remove it, her nails raking over my upper arms. Reaching down, I practically tore off my undershirt, anxious to rid myself of any barrier between us.

She ran her hands, so small and soft, over my body, caressing my back, my chest, my abdomen. Her touch seemed to activate every nerve ending in my body, shooting jolts of sensation directly to my aching cock, and I could hardly stand it, the pleasure mixed with the pain. When she scratched her nails lightly across my nipples, I broke, growling low in my throat and imprisoning her wrists with my hands, using all my might to force her back toward the bed, and I swear I am not a violent person, I swear, but I loved the way she yielded to me, the way she surrendered and made me feel strong, because Terri only liked me when I was weak in _all_ situations and this was different, so different. This was exactly what I'd always wanted without realizing it. I pinned her to the bed, held her down, and groaned at the feel of her generously curved body beneath mine, groaned louder when she raised her hips and rubbed herself against me. Driven only by the need to taste her, I lowered my head to her throat, dragged my lips across her neck to her ear, licked the shell and bit at the earlobe. A soft cry escaped her lips, and I did it again just because I was able to.

"Don't make me wait," I panted, because I didn't think I could, especially not if she kept arching up like that, grinding against my cock, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd finished before I'd wanted to- high school, probably- but every time she moved under me it became a more and more distinct possibility.

"I don't want to," she promised, her words dissolving into a moan as I sucked at her neck, clutched at the fabric of her skirt with one hand, shoved the other under the hem of her shirt. Sliding it up across the smooth skin of her stomach to cup her breast, I pinched her already hard nipples in turn through the fabric of her bra until she cried out. She retaliated by dropping her hands to my belt, and I pushed her skirt up around her waist, dragging my fingers up her bare thigh before seeking out the pulsing heat between her legs. I rubbed her firmly through the damp silk of her panties, and she squirmed against me, attempting to gain more friction. Her effort filled me with something that felt suspiciously like pride. It was a wordless confirmation that she wanted me, needed me, was eager to experience everything we were doing together (and it's not gentlemanly to make comparisons but as far as I could remember Terri had never been eager, ever).

Pushing her panties aside, I found her entrance and easily slid one finger inside, catching my breath at the further evidence of her desire. "You're so wet," I whispered, almost incredulous, adding another finger and feeling her around me, hot and slippery and oh my god. "So wet and tight." It was just… So different, so impossible to imagine what this would be like, but I couldn't wait to find out, had to know, needed to know.

I pumped my fingers inside of her, moving them in and out, and she made wordless sounds of agreement as she finally succeeded in unbuckling my belt, unfastening my jeans and shoving them down past my hips along with my boxer briefs. It's possible I groaned in relief, so thankful to be free of the uncomfortable confinement of my clothes, but then she touched my cock and I definitely groaned in ecstasy. Her hand stroked me deftly as she rubbed her thumb across the sensitive head, spreading my precome over it, and I had never been so hard, so desperate, pleasure radiating in waves throughout my body. My fear that I'd embarrass myself by coming with nothing more than this brief caress increased, especially when she spoke, begged, murmuring "I want you inside me," in a way that made her sound as desperate as I felt.

"Yes," I gasped into the crook of her neck, forcing my fingers deep into her one last time. "God yes. I'm going to fuck you so hard." And who was I? I had never used language like that in a situation like this before, had always wanted to, had never meant to, wasn't sure if she would take offense, but it was the truth and I was too incoherent with alcohol and desire to filter it.

"Yes," she agreed, showing she was not at all offended, which was all the encouragement I needed to withdraw my fingers and replace them with my cock. She was so wet, so ready, and suddenly I was terrified again, apprehensive somehow, and I rubbed myself along her slit in order to have a moment to reign in my panic. This was wrong, I knew it was, wasn't it? What was I doing? Seriously, what- Impatient, she raised her hips, sliding against me with incredible friction, and my fear was overridden by instinct. I surged forward, pressing into her slowly both to avoid hurting her- she was so inconceivably _tight_- and to give myself time to adjust to the exquisite sensation of her hot flesh, slick with need, stretching to accommodate me. Finally, I was buried to the hilt, fully surrounded by the velvet vice-like grip of her cunt, and I was afraid to even attempt to move, afraid it would all be over the second I did. Never in my life had I imagined any torture as intensely pleasurable as this, and I wasn't sure I could stand it.

"Oh _god_," she breathed, voice dazed, sounding exactly the way I would have if I'd trusted myself to speak. "Please. _Please_."

Her shameless begging almost broke me, but I gritted my teeth and focused on lifting my head, looking into to her flushed, glowing face, brushing her hair off her damp forehead and just fighting for control. "Please what?" I demanded, though the question was entirely rhetorical; I was reasonably certain I knew what she wanted, or hoped I did, because I was dying to give it to her. My lips brushed against hers in a gentle kiss, a wordless promise to her and to myself that I wouldn't disappoint her.

"Please fuck me," she answered when I raised my head, and my control snapped. Gripping her forearms hard enough to bruise, I almost wanted to brand my fingerprints into her delicate skin, and held her immobile beneath me as I began to thrust. The friction as I moved was unbelievable, her body seeming to accept both the intrusion of my cock and the inevitable withdrawal with reluctance yet yielding sweetly to me, cradling me like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I had never felt this overwhelming sensation of being entirely surrounded, her constricting liquid heat stroking every inch of me at once, milking me as I plunged into her again and again. She gasped with every flex of my hips, gasped as I pounded into her, and she sounded just like I felt, like she wasn't sure if the way I was fucking her (as hard as I'd promised) was filling her with pain or pleasure but didn't care either way.

She dug her fingernails into my back, clawing at me like a trapped animal (but in a sexy way, somehow, it's difficult to explain), the sharp sting mingled with the waves of continuous pleasure flooding through me only speeding the approach of my climax, and I knew I needed to satisfy her immediately if not sooner if I wanted to maintain my pride. Already I couldn't help moving even more forcefully inside her. I slid my fingers into her hair and pulled, snapping her head back and exposing her neck to me, kissing, biting, sucking, licking the soft skin of her throat as I reached down between her legs and pressed desperately at her clit, not even bothering to tease it because there just wasn't time for subtlety. Her entire body tensed, cunt holding me almost painfully, and then she let go, mouth open in a silent scream as she fell apart in my arms, shuddering around me. I felt a surge of purely masculine triumph, reveling in the shocked, delighted expression on her face- no better achievement in the world, I swear- not to mention relief that I hadn't utterly humiliated myself, and god knew it had been a very near thing.

Then I brought my lips to hers, hard, felt her mouth trembling beneath mine as I pushed my tongue in, tasting her as she came, and I continued thrusting into her plush heat, getting closer and closer with every stroke, trying to hold on as long as possible because I never, ever wanted this experience to end. But then she sank her teeth into my lower lip, and there was no way to fight that kind of attack. Driving into her one final time, deeper, with more intensity, I gave up, gave in, and this is what I had wanted, needed, just this. I filled her with my come in powerful spurts, and I had never felt ecstasy like this before, had never known it was possible. And I felt, for those seconds of pure pleasure, that nothing could ever go wrong in a world where such transcendent bliss was possible, and any recent experiences I might have had to contradict that belief were just gone, utterly and completely forgotten. All I knew was that she was perfect, and as long as I was inside her, I was perfect too.

**TBC**


	4. The Difference

_For _Wemmamazing, jilly74, Sierra-Jae, Dementedx, christierrr_ and _Valentinas_. I'm glad that I could spice up your day ;) And for _**traceit**_, of course. Her input is always priceless, but her analysis of this chapter was particularly brilliant._

**4**

It took me a long time to climb down from that incredible high, for my heartbeat to slow and my breathing to return to normal, and I had no desire to move so I didn't, just kept her warm and soft and sated beneath me, held myself inside of her, and kissed her for what felt like days. I was loathe to stop, knowing that once I did our encounter would truly be over, something that had happened in the past rather than something that was still happening. Of course, the fact that it had happened at all was still inconceivable to me. Even as our mouths met tenderly, as warm and soft as she was, tongues sliding against each other in smooth, languid strokes, inside I was feeling overwhelmed by the entire experience in the best possible way.

It had just been so incredibly different, the way she'd let me take control, the way she'd been so enthusiastic, so eager, the way she'd so obviously enjoyed herself. At least it seemed like she had. There had been no hint that she'd found anything we'd done distasteful, no martyred sighs to remind me that she was doing me a huge favor and by the way I owed her. She'd reciprocated my desire, participated fully with me, taken as much pleasure from the act as I had, and again it's not gentlemanly to make comparisons but let's just say that none of those things could be said about sex with Terri and leave it at that. That this beautiful, experienced woman had chosen me, wanted me, needed me, given herself to me… Literally begged to have me inside of her…

I could repeat that sentence five different ways, with the emphasis on a different word each time, and it still wouldn't convey the way that knowledge made me feel. The last time Terri had begged for anything in bed, it had been for me to leave her alone. This woman, on the other hand, continued to make desperate little sounds in the back of her throat as we kissed, even though the time for desperation was long past. She still held me to her, arms twined gently around my neck, fingers threading through my hair, one strong leg wrapped around my waist as though to keep me joined to her as long as possible, as though she couldn't bear to let me go. It was thrilling, and I was utterly consumed by her, the entire world condensed into her yielding form, her heat still surrounding me.

After an indeterminate amount of time (weeks, months, years), I finally realized that I was probably crushing her, finally (reluctantly) withdrew and rolled onto my back beside her, staring up at the ceiling I could hardly see. I felt exhausted and completely drained, dizzy with the combined influence of her presence and all the alcohol I had consumed finally catching up to me. She sighed softly. More than anything I wanted to pull her to me and close my eyes, sink into darkness with her by my side and sleep for a week. But before I could reach for her, she surprised me by standing.

"Where are you going?" I asked, struggling to keep my eyes open, the words feeling thick and awkward in my mouth.

"I'm not, just changing. I can't sleep in this… And you can't sleep in that," she pointed out. I realized with a start that I was still half-wearing my jeans and boxer briefs.

"No, I suppose I can't," I answered, forcing myself to sit up. She was standing before me, still fully clothed, smiling just slightly, lips dark and swollen from the pressure of my mouth on hers, hair tousled about her shoulders from my fingers, eyes heavy lidded and mysterious. My mouth went dry as I stared at her, because she looked like sex, and she looked like that because of me, and the thought that I'd been inside her made me feel lightheaded. I felt an overwhelming need to touch her again, to assure myself she was real, that this had happened, because I was still having trouble believing it. "Come here, let me undress you."

She approached me cautiously, as though she wasn't quite certain what I had in mind, and I smiled at her, raising one corner of my mouth. Standing, I kicked off the rest of my clothes, left them in a pile by the bed, and moved closer to her. I smoothed her hair with my fingers, pressed my lips to hers softly because I couldn't help it, and took hold of the hem of her shirt. "Lift your arms."

It was hard to imagine that we'd shared so much while she'd remained fully clothed, but now I wanted to see her, touch her bare skin since I had missed my chance before. I pulled her shirt off as she obeyed my command, caressed her sides lightly, feeling the supple texture of her skin, the barely discernable arches of her ribs beneath her flesh. She shivered, and I smiled because it felt so good to know that she was reacting to me. "Cold?"

"No," she said, and I nodded, absorbing the sight of her in nothing but her bra and skirt. Black lace cupped her breasts, cradling them, accentuating their shape and contrasting perfectly with her creamy skin. Her body was delicately formed, petite, but curved nicely in all the right places, those breasts fuller than her frame would suggest, her rounded hips flaring out from a small waist. She was slim yet soft, utterly feminine, and very beautiful. And she had chosen me. _Me_.

Hands trembling almost imperceptibly, I reached behind her to slide down the zipper of her skirt, push it towards the floor. I couldn't resist cradling her ass for a moment, the swell of it again fuller than her frame would suggest. She stepped away, smiled coyly, reached behind her back to unhook her bra, leaning forward until it fell away from her skin. Her nipples hardened, either from the cold or from the way I was staring. Finally, her panties fell to the floor, and she stepped out of them delicately, leaving them where they were.

She was completely naked before me then, pale skin seeming to absorb what little light filtered in through the window and glow with it, and I couldn't help but drink in the sight of her. I could see the evidence of our activities on her body, bruises I would almost certainly feel guilty about in the morning developing on her arms and throat, inner thighs shining slightly with fluid that reminded me once more that I'd been inside her, and I felt lightheaded again, and strangely possessive.

"You're… so beautiful," I said, feeling like an idiot for being unable to think of anything more poetic. Of course she was beautiful. Every man she'd ever been with must have told her so. To cover up the awkwardness I felt, I moved toward the bed, turned down the covers. "Come lie down with me."

She smiled her agreement, slid in between the sheets, and I followed, pulling her to me. The feel of her bare skin against mine was as perfect as I'd imagined it would be, and I trailed my finger lightly down her stomach and up her sides. "That was…" I began, wanting to say something profound, or at least accurate, but again I was at a loss for words, should probably have thought it out better before opening my mouth. "I don't know what that was. I don't think there are words for what that was," I finished lamely.

"There aren't," she responded, as though I hadn't said something incredibly stupid, "so I'm just going to go with _amazing_. Is that okay?"

I could feel a wide smile spreading over my face, pride swelling in my chest, and I was just so glad I hadn't been a colossal disappointment to her. Not that I thought I had been; I'd made her come, knew I had, there was no way to fake the way she'd reacted, and yet… Somehow, no matter how hard I'd tried, I'd always felt that Terri would rather be using her glue gun on some inane crafts project than be intimate with me, possibly because she'd once said exactly that, so having my personal observations confirmed was a welcome relief. "Well for me at least it falls short," I informed her, "but maybe it's the best we can do."

"I'll check my thesaurus in the morning," she murmured, and I laughed softly.

I couldn't think of anything else to say, could only drift towards unconsciousness, whispering "I don't think I've ever been this exhausted."

"Me too," I dimly recall her answering. "You can stay the night if you like…"

I tried to make my lips form a single word, _Yes_ or _Good _or _Thanks_, but I think I fell asleep before I managed it.

**TBC**


	5. Daylight

_For _Sierra-Jae, jilly74, PlainJane1, Wemmamazing, Valentinas_ and _SweetDisposition34_. I'm so glad you're enjoying this experiment so far! Also for _**traceit**_, who would certainly have made this chapter infinitely better if I'd written it in time to send it to her for feedback. Unfortunately, I didn't, so if this chapter sucks I'm so sorry._

**5**

The first thing I became conscious of was the feel of Terri, warm and soft, disentangling herself from my arms, the mattress rising up almost imperceptibly as she left the bed. Then there was the quiet padding of her bare feet on the floor, the near silent opening and closing of the door, and she was gone and I was alone and oh my god my head hurt. I squeezed my eyes tightly against the pain, unwilling to open them because I knew sunlight would make the whole situation worse. There was a blank in my mind where the night before should have been, not a completely empty space but a cache of memories wrapped in an alcoholic haze so thick I didn't have the energy just then to attempt to penetrate it. All I could easily remember was the Liquor Box, definitely remembered deciding to go there, definitely remembered arriving, and there was the suggestion of something else, something about karaoke? Norah Castle, _Summerview_, and approximately fifteen shots of something that had tasted like turpentine. Also a beer, for some reason.

All of that paint thinner (plus the one anomalous beer) must have been the culprit behind the bizarre dream that was beginning to come clear in my mind, a beautiful woman touching my hand, looking deep into my eyes, murmuring "Do you want to get out of here?" In the dream I'd responded in the affirmative, and we'd gone back to her house and had either a very violent fight or similarly violent sex. Maybe both. The dream was so real… I could clearly remember holding her down, hard, pushing into her, harder, my mouth on hers, on her throat, her pulse beneath my lips as she gasped with every thrust, and I could feel her in my arms, feel her surrounding me. There was something vaguely disturbing about the thought that I'd had such a graphic dream while lying next to my wife…

My eyes flew open, and by the time they'd focused enough for me to register my surroundings, the haze hiding my memories had disappeared to the extent that I no longer expected to see the familiar walls of my own bedroom. I blinked, bewildered, at what I was remembering, completely shocked to realize that what I'd thought was a dream had been real. It had all happened, really happened, and there was a sick feeling in my stomach as I realized exactly what I'd done. In all the years Terri and I had been together, I had never, ever cheated on her, had never even seriously considered it, until last night had only ever kissed one person aside from her in my entire life. And yet last night I'd gone home with a stranger, and everything that had followed had been… There were still no words for it. But even knowing that I'd broken my vows, even knowing that what I'd done had been objectively, morally wrong, I couldn't bring myself to regret it, and that was… Not normal for me.

At the same time, what did I have to regret? My marriage was over, over, over; the more I thought about it, the more I knew it had to be, or rather that it had been over for longer than I'd realized, and any legal proceedings were nothing but a formality at this point. There was the question of Emma, of course, but somehow it seemed that she didn't enter into this at all. I cared about her, both as a friend and possibly as something more, but honestly I couldn't imagining her comforting me the way the woman last night had. Emma was just not the type. The one time I'd tried to imagine her in a sexual scenario, I'd been unable to get past the sneaking suspicion that she'd make me wear a pair of those plastic gloves she carried around before she'd allow me to touch her.

The sound of someone walking quietly down the hall interrupted my thoughts, and I realized with sudden panic that of all the memories I'd managed to recover from the night before, I was missing a critical one: her name. She had to have told me, of course… I'd never have left the bar with someone whose name I didn't even know. Right? The fact that I couldn't make that statement with any certainty was rather terrifying, but not quite as terrifying as the thought of how upset she might be when I had to confess I'd forgotten something so important yet so basic. I glanced around the room, hoping to see her wallet on the nightstand or something, but the room was like a hotel suite, empty of any personal touches aside from our clothes scattered haphazardly across the floor. Desperate as I was for answers, I wasn't quite desperate enough to search through her pockets. And even if I had been, there certainly wasn't time; I could hear her directly outside the door, could see the doorknob turning.

I sat up as she entered, all my fears and panic melting away at the sight of her. Drunk as I'd been the night before, I'd assumed she could not possibly be as beautiful as I remembered her being, and I was right. She was even more beautiful, even more desirable, the damp dark hair tumbling about her shoulders reminding me of its texture as I'd buried my fingers in it the night before, the gentle curve of her lips reminding me of the way they'd trembled beneath my own when I'd kissed her as she came, the livid marks on her forearms and throat reminding me of the way I'd held her down, the way I'd tasted her. These memories sent a hot rush of awareness and arousal through me even as the sight of her wearing my shirt and nothing else filled me with a fierce possessiveness I hardly recognized.

Embarrassed on many different levels, I could feel myself blushing as I attempted to ignore my body's sudden enthusiastic response to her presence and smile. "Hey."

"Hey," she answered, her smile widening. "Sleep well?"

I laughed a little, remembering how soundly I'd slept and reflecting it was the first good night's sleep I'd had in a week. "Like the dead."

Her smile took on a wicked cast at my response. "I'm not surprised," she said, and her voice was lower, huskier.

And I was harder, uncomfortably so. "Right," I answered lamely, distracted. "Look, I… I mean, I remember last night-" (and just as I said this, I remembered something else, remembered pressing my lips to her throat and saying "I'm going to fuck you so hard," as though it were a perfectly normal thing to tell someone, and oh my god I thought I might die) "-but some… Details are a bit fuzzy. Did I… Well, did I ever get your name? Because if I did I've forgotten it. I'm so sorry," I added, eyes pleading with her to understand, though honestly if I were her I don't think I would. "I keep thinking and thinking but I can't…"

She looked at me blankly for a moment, and I was afraid she was angry, but then she laughed, a trilling bell-like sound that didn't seem angry in the least.

"It's okay," she told me, the expression on her face strangely tender. "I don't think we ever got to the name exchange."

I could feel my face grow even hotter. "Oh, god," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. It had been bad enough when I'd thought I'd forgotten the information, but this was worse. "I don't know… I mean, I've never… I guess everyone says this, but I've never done anything like this before," I confessed, still blushing, feeling so gauche and awkward and just… Embarrassed, like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn't have. Which, I suppose, was an accurate enough description.

Smiling wryly, she shrugged. "I wouldn't know what everyone says, I've never done anything like this before."

Somehow, I got the feeling that wasn't entirely true. "Well then," I began after a moment, "what are the rules? Are there rules?"

"I think it's the kind of thing where we get to make our own. Name exchange or no? It's all up to you," she answered, and I felt a sudden stirring of alarm at the thought that this might be the only time I'd ever see her. It was a strange emotion, considering the circumstances, but it didn't really register consciously. I was merely aware of an overwhelming sense that if it was up to me, I wanted to know her name, wanted her to know mine, very very much.

"I'm Will," I told her, reaching out to shake her hand before realizing what a stupid thing that was to do.

She grinned as though delighted by said stupid thing, reaching out to grasp my hand in turn. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Honor, and yes, it's a name."

I'd never heard of it before, but I found I liked it. "I think it's lovely." I cradled her hand in mine, absorbing the delicate warmth, feeling it spread throughout my body, and I was still so hard I was afraid she'd notice despite all the blankets I was buried under.

"It's a family thing," she explained, and I was about to question her further when she abruptly changed the subject. "Are you hungry? Wait, scratch that… Even if you are, there's literally nothing in the kitchen." There was something about the hurried way she said this that made me think she was rambling, or her version of it, but I couldn't imagine why she'd do that… Or why I even thought that was what she was doing, really; it was just a feeling.

I ignored it, decided that if she wanted to change the subject I wasn't going to argue. "It's okay." Before I could really consider what I was about to say, I heard myself making an awkward offer. "We could always… Go get breakfast… If you want, I mean."

She looked surprised at this, which made me think I'd made some kind of mistake. Was eating together after a one-night stand against the rules? But she'd said we could make our own, and I didn't know why exactly but I wanted to get to know her a bit better. I think it was because after what we'd shared I felt close to her somehow, linked to her, and wanted to explore that further. There was something fascinating about her, her serene confidence, her amusement at the whole situation, not to mention her kindness the night before, not just in giving herself to me (and that had been very, very kind, kinder than she knew, because it had given me the first true peace I'd had in an entire week) but just in caring enough to see that I was in pain, to ask me why.

The look on her face morphed slowly from surprise to something else, something almost predatory, but in the best possible way. "And if I'm not hungry?" she asked, teeth sinking into her lower lip in a gesture that reminded me of the way I'd kissed her the night before, the way I'd bitten her there and the way she'd responded. I'd never dropped her hand after I'd introduced myself, had enjoyed holding it too much to let go, and she guided it to the front of my shirt in a clear invitation.

Our gazes were still locked, and I could see desire in her eyes, desire that echoed my own, and thank god because I'd really been at a loss as to how I was going to get out of the bedroom without her noticing how embarrassingly excited I was just to be near her. But how was I supposed to help myself? She was so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, and the fact that she wanted me now, sober, in the light of day was almost a miracle.

"Then I'm not, either." I told her. And I wasn't.

**TBC**


	6. x Selfishness

_For jilly74, Sierra-Jae, Wemmamazing and xJuBee. All of your support means so much to me, it's so motivational! Also of course for _**traceit**_, who again would have made this chapter SO much better if only I'd finished it in time. I need to play catch up so that I can be well enough ahead to send her the new chapters before posting them! Again, sorry if this one sucks (in a bad way)._

Please skip this chapter if you're offended by, or too young to read, **graphic adult content**._  
_

**6**

Bending at the waist, she pressed her lips softly to mine, and I didn't attempt to deepen the kiss; after last night, I was content to let her lead, to see where she would take this. I framed her face with my hands to steady her, and we explored each other's mouths, tasting each other with increasing intensity, until I couldn't stand being passive any longer. My hands moved in gentle strokes along her sides so that I could grip her waist, tugging her down until she was lying fully on top of me, her warm, soft body fitted perfectly to mine. She sighed against my lips, tangled her fingers in my hair, and I arched up against her, increasing the pressure of our kiss. Her fingers moved from my scalp down my neck to my back, over my shoulders, down my chest, her touch feather light yet somehow powerful enough to awaken all my senses, a hot rush of desire cascading through me.

As she caressed me, she lifted her head, touching her lips to my cheekbones and eyelids, trailing her mouth along my jaw before tugging on my hair, tilting my head back, and turning her attention to my throat. She sucked gently on my neck, and I gasped as she scraped her teeth over my pulse, groaned as she dragged her lips across my collarbone. My breathing grew heavy as she continued to tease me, my cock growing harder with every flick of her tongue against my skin, and I knew she could feel it even through the layers of blankets because I could feel the heat of her center as easily as though no barrier existed. I returned my hands to her face, encouraging her to return her mouth to mine, but she shook her head slightly and I relented, contenting myself with running my fingers through her damp hair.

She continued her path down my body, and I was surprised when she teased one of my nipples with her tongue, sending a jolt of sensation through my body. I gasped, my fingers tightening convulsively in her waves, and she repeated her actions with the same effect. Then she began to tantalize me in earnest, sucking each nipple gently, and I'd never realized how sensitive they were until now, but whatever she was doing felt beyond incredible. My breathing became heavier the longer she lavished her attention on me until finally I was groaning like a man being tortured, which I was but in the best possible way.

The torture continued as she moved all over my upper body, her fingers sliding sensually across my chest, her mouth following, tasting me everywhere, discovering secrets about myself even I didn't know. I was shocked by the cries she wrung from me simply by touching the inside of my arm or scraping her teeth over my hipbone, entranced by the feeling of her smiling against my skin each time I reacted favorably to her efforts. My mind was nearly blank with pure desire and longing, no inner monologue, no thoughts of Terri or Emma or anything except her, the maddening things her lips and teeth and tongue were doing to my body. All I could think of was taking this to its natural conclusion, getting her under me or on top of me, burying myself inside her.

Then she moved even lower, pressing kisses below my bellybutton, trailing her fingers over my thighs, and a new fantasy superseded all others. More than anything I wanted to feel her hot mouth enveloping my cock, feel her licking it and sucking it the way she had with my nipples, and it wasn't fair of her to tease me like this, wasn't fair of her to make me want something so unlikely. Because if there was one thing Terri had taught me, it was that serious effort was required to earn that kind of a reward, and I didn't think Honor would be especially impressed by my promise to cook dinner, wash all the dishes, do all the laundry and rub her feet for an hour every night for a week. But the image of her lips wrapped around me wouldn't leave my mind. I wanted to sob with frustration.

Before the situation became quite that desperate, her fingers curled around me, grip firm as she stroked me, and I moaned as she rubbed her palm across my head, spreading my precome over it. The extra lubrication amplified every touch, and her hands felt so good on me. I couldn't look away as she jerked me off. My eyes grew wide with disbelief when she brought her face closer to my cock, and I inhaled sharply when she opened her mouth and placed it on me. She looked up at the sound, meeting my gaze, and I was struck dumb by the lust I saw in her eyes. It was almost as though she wanted to suck my cock as much as I wanted her to, which was crazy but that's how it seemed, and that made me want it even more, if that makes any sense at all. Pulling away slightly, she smiled at me.

"Is this what you want?" she murmured seductively, the tilt of her lips amused and knowing.

I couldn't help but laugh. Was she kidding? She had to be kidding. "God yes," I breathed, not bothering to hide my eagerness. If she was just teasing me, I was going to die. "Yes, yes, yes."

Even if she wasn't teasing me, I'd expected her to make me beg, and I was surprised when she didn't. Instead she smiled once more before leaning forward again. I watched, breathless, as she licked my head, and it was all I could do to keep from coming then and there as she slid it between her lips and sucked, filling me with unspeakable pleasure augmented by the sight of my hard flesh disappearing into her mouth. I groaned and dropped my hands to the back of her skull, tangling my fingers in her hair, and was thisclose to pushing her down, forcing her to take more of me, before I realized she might not appreciate it. Difficult as it was, I released my grip and clutched desperately at the sheets instead, unwilling to do anything that might dissuade her from what she was doing.

Once more, she lifted her head, locked eyes with me. But before I had the chance to be disappointed that it was over so soon, she grasped my hand and guided it to the back of her head. "Show me what you like," she encouraged, voice low and husky.

I couldn't help the way my fingers contracted in her hair, but I was unsure how I should react to her request. "Don't want to hurt you," I answered, which was only partially true. That is to say, I didn't want to hurt her, not at all, but I wanted so badly to feel my cock buried deep in the heat of her mouth.

She smirked up at me as though she could read my thoughts. "I can take it."

Oh, god. "You think so?" I demanded, feeling all the darkness from last night rising up inside me.

"Oh yes," she assured me, so confident, and my control snapped.

"Then take it," I ordered, burying my other hand in her hair, exerting enough force to push her down slowly, not giving her a chance to object, watching my cock disappear inch by inch between her full lips. She looked so fucking good like that, eyes wide and trained on mine, mouth stretched wide around me, and she hadn't just taken it, she'd taken it all, and it was taking all my control to not hold her down and fuck her face in a way that really might hurt her. Which I didn't want to do, of course I didn't want to, but it was hard to remember why when I could feel myself touching the back of her throat.

"This," I moaned, holding her still. "This is what I like."

She raised her eyebrows at me as though to say _Well? Come on_. and I couldn't hold back anymore. I pulled on her hair, gasping harshly as my cock slid between her lips, then forced her back down again, gasping once more as I was again enveloped by her wet heat. Her eyes were still on mine, and from the way I could feel her moaning I didn't think I was hurting her, so I didn't stop, increasing the speed even as I directed her to suck me harder with a litany of barely coherent commands. "Yes, oh god, oh _god_, suck it, yes, mmm, harder, yes, please, oh god, yes, like that, just like that, oh _fuck_, don't stop, oh god…"

The combination of the physical sensation of her hot mouth surrounding me and the visual of her moving up and down as I guided her was almost too much for me to handle, and in no time at all I was poised at the edge of ecstasy, completely incoherent with need. My rhythm had degenerated into something erratic and random, and I was forcing her down even harder than before, and part of me wanted nothing more than to finish like this, to come down her throat and watch her swallow every drop, and forgive me if that's too graphic but I'm a guy, okay? What else was I supposed to be thinking at this point? But there was another part of me that didn't want this encounter to end so selfishly. I knew that she had given up her control to please me, and my god had it worked, and I wanted to do the same for her, wanted to make her feel at least as good as I did. And of course I couldn't forget the way I had felt last night, watching her come in my arms, knowing that I'd done that for her, so maybe I wanted to make her feel good for selfish reasons too. Either way, I knew I needed to act quickly if I was going to have any chance of stopping before I finished.

I released my grip on her hair, letting my arms fall to my sides, and I gathered the sheets into my hands, clutching the fabric tightly as I squeezed my eyes shut. Forcing myself to focus on anything but her, anything but the feel of her mouth still around me, I ran through a few vocal exercises in my mind, muttering them under my breath (_aluminum, linoleum, aluminum, linoleum…_) until I was finally sure I could hold out a little longer. Then I reached down and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up to meet my mouth with hers. My lips clearly communicated my desperation for her as I kissed her deeply, and when I slid my tongue inside I could taste myself, which only made me more desperate. Thankfully, she took the initiative to spread her legs and straddle me, raising herself up and then sinking down onto my aching cock. Her tight, hot cunt enveloped me the way her mouth had, the feeling even more exquisite, and I slipped my hands under my shirt, reaching up to pinch her nipples as she moved hard above me.

Almost of their own volition, my lips trailed from hers to her throat, teeth scraping over the bruises I knew I should feel guilty about but in my current aroused state could only view as marks of possession. I released her breasts and raised my hands to her hair, pulling hard until I was looking into her eyes, clear and gray and unfocused with pleasure. "Say my name," I ordered, because now that she knew it I wanted to hear it, needed to hear it, needed to hear her acknowledge that I was the one inside her, the one making her feel so good.

"Will," she gasped in compliance, and no word had ever aroused me more. I moved my hand down, rewarding her by ghosting my finger over her clit, giving her some pressure but not enough, and she gasped again. "Oh god, Will, yes, please, yes, yes, Will… God yes, Will…"

She continued riding me, sliding up and down my length and moaning my name until I could hardly stand it, and I finally held my hand in place so that her clit received constant stimulation. I could feel her tightening around me, inner muscles tensing and gripping me even more firmly, and I dug my fingers into her hips, holding her down on me.

"Will, please god please don't leave me like this _please_!" she begged, trying to move but unable to compete with the strength I used to keep her immobile.

"I won't," I promised, kissing her desperately, forcing her hard against me as I thrust up into her, rubbing against her clit with every flex of my hips. She gave a wordless cry as she fell apart, shuddering in my arms, and the pulsing of her cunt around my cock was enough to push me over the edge as well. I continued pumping into her as I came inside, filling her as she came with me, and just like the night before it was perfect, even more perfect, because this time her lips were forming my name, because this time she knew who was inside of her and wanted me there anyway.

"Will," she gasped, again and again. "Will."

**TBC**


	7. Flight

_For _PlainJane1, Sierra-Jae, jilly74, Dementedx, Valentinas_ and _Wemmamazing_. Knowing you're waiting for each new chapter always motivates me to write when I feel like I just can't. Also for _**traceit**_,__ even though she got nowhere near this chapter because I'm so far behind... And I assure you, the chapter is worse for it! I need her input to function._

**7**

If two people have a conversation that neither can remember later, did the conversation ever take place? I always ask myself this question whenever I think of that morning, when I think of lying in bed with her after we were both spent, of her body sliding against mine when I pulled her to me and held her there, because I know we had a conversation of some kind but I've never been able to remember what we discussed and I'd be surprised if she could. Whatever she said, whatever I said, didn't matter, because I at least was lost in my own thoughts, trying to figure out exactly what had happened last night and this morning, trying to figure out who I had become. I must have changed somehow in the last twelve hours, because the Will Schuester I had been before I entered the Liquor Box would never have gone home with a stranger, or been so violent during sex, or said all the things I'd said, or felt the things I'd felt, the primal emotions of pride and possessiveness that Honor seemed to engender in me. Before this morning I'd have sworn I was incapable of bruising anyone the way I had bruised her, much less looking at the injuries and feeling good about them.

And yet I did. Every glimpse of the marks on her forearms, marks that matched the shape of my fingers perfectly, filled me with a sense of satisfaction, and that was just wrong, wasn't it? I had never imagined I could enjoy hurting someone. Of course, last night I could chalk up to the alcohol, or temporary insanity, or any one of a number of things, but this morning I had no such excuses ready. The second she'd voluntarily given up her control I'd been more than ready to dominate her, and it was just… Not something I'd ever done before, not something I was used to. I'm a nice guy, most everyone would tell you so, and it was almost frightening to think that all that darkness had been hiding inside me, just waiting for someone to set it free. But the thing that was hardest for me to comprehend was the fact that she hadn't minded. She had encouraged me every step of the way, had enjoyed it, and knowing that made me feel stronger even though I knew the power plays were all a game. It just further underscored the differences between Honor and Terri, because Terri had never ceded control in any aspect of our lives, had controlled me in her own twisted way, and I understood that whatever had happened the night before and the morning following was just sex but I also understood that it had real-world implications for me.

These were all things I needed to think about, but I found it impossible to do so on an empty stomach. When I mentioned this to her, she agreed to accompany me for breakfast, and for some reason knowing we didn't have to say goodbye just yet filled me with a strange kind of warmth, something that seemed closely related to happiness but was also something else, something I couldn't quite define. The warmth increased when she allowed me to dress her, which I know is strange but I enjoyed it because it made me feel like I was taking care of her in some small way, and because it made me feel close to her. I slid her jeans up over her hips, my fingers brushing against her skin as I tucked my shirt carefully into the waistband, and it was just intimate in a way that was at once the same as what we'd shared earlier and yet completely different, more tender. It's hard to explain, probably because I don't really understand it myself, but it was as revealing in its own way as undressing her the night before had been, and the more I think about it the less sense it makes.

Sunny Side was right down the street from her house, which was convenient because it was the only restaurant open at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. on a Saturday. I found it strange that Honor didn't seem to know this, but shrugged it off on the assumption that she rarely had call to eat out so early, whereas I'm an early riser out of necessity, even on the weekends. Sleeping in Saturday and Sunday just isn't worth the exhausted state I'd always find myself in come first period Monday, so I'd spent my fair share of early weekend mornings at the diner.

I lead her to a table in the back, where the sunlight didn't quite reach; my headache had disappeared completely but my eyes still felt oddly sensitive to light, and besides I wanted privacy for us. A waitress handed us our menus, and I scanned mine in a perfunctory manner as I already knew what I planned to order. Honor studied hers intently, as though the choice of what to eat for breakfast was the most monumental decision she'd ever make, and somehow that struck me as adorable. She was adorable, really, with her hair thrown into a haphazard bun and her cheeks still glowing from our earlier activities, and the combination of my collared shirt and her glasses gave her a sexy librarian vibe that was hard to resist. It was still nearly impossible to believe she'd let me touch her, had actively participated in touching me. Every time I smiled at her she smiled back, and while it was brighter than the sunlight it didn't hurt my eyes at all.

Once she'd finally finished her cost-benefit analysis of each potential meal on the menu and set it aside, I reached out and took her hand, enjoying the electric current that seemed to flow between us when I touched her, wondering if she felt it too. Maybe I'd have the courage to ask her at some point, but for now I had something else to say. "I really want to thank you, Honor," I told her as I stroked her fingers lightly and looked deep into her clear gray eyes. I wanted her to know that I was truly grateful, that I meant what I said, because I was and I did. "Last night, just talking to you, that really helped me, and I want you to know I appreciate it."

She ducked her head as though embarrassed and changed the subject. "And the rest of it?" Her tone was light, and I wondered what made her so uncomfortable with the sincerity I'd shown.

"I should probably thank you for that, too," I answered, trying to seem nonchalant, as though I let strangers rock my world at least once a week, but I couldn't pull it off of course. I could feel myself blushing as I remembered certain choice details. "It was… I've never… I mean…" And again, there were no words.

"I know," she said, squeezing my hand gently. "Me either." And I wondered if she meant that, or if she said that to everyone, and I hated the thought that there might an entire category of men who knew her like this, hated it.

Before I could say anything else, our waitress reappeared, and I ordered my usual (a three-egg ham and cheese omelet with bacon, sausage, hashbrowns and toast, in case you were wondering) while Honor ordered oatmeal and fruit. The virtuousness of her choice made me feel slightly ashamed of my gluttony, but I was hungry, alright? And I don't care what anyone says, oatmeal is not a meal at all.

As the waitress bustled off to fulfill our orders, I focused all my attention on the woman across from me, trying to… I don't know, read her mind or something. It was impossible for me to imagine why she'd been in the Liquor Box the night before, why she'd decided to take someone home, and especially why that someone had turned out to be me; I am many things but special is not one of them.

"Last night…" I began, wondering if I was really about to bring up the topic, but it was the only thing on my mind suddenly so yes, yes I was. "What made you decide to take me home? I've been wondering and wondering and I really can't figure it out."

She laughed, a bright, happy sound that did something strange to my insides, twisted them or liquefied them or something, and nudged my leg under the table. "You don't spend a lot of time staring at yourself in the mirror, do you?"

I rolled my eyes at her teasing (though I will admit to being slightly better looking than average). "I'm not saying I'm not pretty," I responded before becoming serious again. "I'm just saying that can't have been the only thing. You chose to speak to me. I didn't have the nerve to speak to you."

She closed her eyes as though remembering every detail of the night before, and it occurred to me that she had not only chosen me, she had chosen me _sober_. Of course, she'd barely entered the bar before we'd left together, and she certainly hadn't finished her one beer. This just confused me further, because if her reasons had nothing to do with alcohol they were even more of a mystery to me.

"When you were singing," she began finally, opening her eyes and looking at me seriously, "you were so…You were so sad. That song, it sounds…"

She sighed, frustrated, as though the English language didn't contain the words she wanted to use to say what she needed to. "On its surface, it doesn't seem so depressing, you know? The music is kind of upbeat, the lyrics are ambiguous. But I've always found it heartbreaking, and you were singing it like you knew that. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," I said, nodding, because it did. "It's funny though… Until this week, I never found the song sad myself. But I tend to sing to myself when I'm upset, and for some reason that song came to me as the one that described what I was feeling." It had surprised me at the time, in fact, but it was the one song I couldn't get out of my mind all week, the one I found myself singing when I was alone.

"I understand," she whispered, and she looked… I can't really describe how she looked, but it was almost as though she'd dropped the guard I hadn't realized she had for a split second, just long enough for me to read some vulnerability in her face, and then it was gone and I was left wondering which version of her was the real one, and what she was protecting so carefully.

"I'm really sorry," she murmured, and this time it wasn't lost on me that she was purposely turning the conversation away from herself. But that was something to consider later, because just hearing the sympathetic tone of her voice healed something inside me, soothed my raw wounds like a balm, because no one yet had said anything like it. "About what you're going through. I can't imagine what it's like."

"I don't know," I said, trying to sound philosophic, zen, what's-done-is-done. "I almost think it might be for the best… Maybe the baby was the only thing keeping us together, and how long would that have lasted? It's better to end it now instead of bringing a child into that mess." And it was true, of course it was true, but… It still hurt.

She looked at me shrewdly. "That doesn't mean it doesn't suck though."

It was so much like something one of my kids would have said, it startled a laugh out of me. "Yeah. It does suck. I really wanted it so much…" And I could feel the depression tugging at me, trying to drag me under.

"Alright, you asked me a question," she began, and I could tell she was purposely distracting me. "A rather personal question, in fact. So it's my turn."

I was glad enough to allow myself to be distracted; I didn't want to be depressed again until I absolutely had to be. "What kind of personal question will you ask?" I teased, trying to help her lighten the mood. "Boxers or briefs?" (It's both, actually, just for the record… Boxer-briefs, not one over the other.)

She batted her lashes at me in a perfect imitation of a cartoon vixen. "Oh, I know the answer to that one." Good point. "No. What I want to know why you're here in Lima teaching when you're able to sing the way you did last night. Your voice is good. Really good."

I grinned, absurdly pleased by her compliment, and by the fact that she'd remembered that I was a teacher, something I'd mentioned only in passing. And yes she'd had an edge in that department since she hadn't been drunk but it was still a very small detail, and the fact that she'd recalled it showed me that she really had been listening. "Thanks. I love to sing, love to perform, but teaching is…" I trailed off, trying to put my feelings for my calling into words. "It's my passion."

She cocked her head to the side and looked at me as though I were a puzzle she needed to solve, one missing some crucial pieces, which seemed strange to me because honestly I'm fairly straightforward. But something had preoccupied her, at least based on the silence that began to hang heavy between us combined with the faraway look in her eyes. "Honor?" I prodded her finally, bringing her back to reality, I hoped.

Blinking, she shook her head like someone coming suddenly awake. "Sorry," she murmured, still looking slightly confused. "I just… Checked out. I've never met anyone who felt so strongly about teaching. What's your subject?"

I couldn't help but be flattered by the question, or rather by the fact that she wanted to ask it, wanted to know the answer. Because really it was the most important thing in my life, but I'd learned early on that most people found the ins and outs of teaching high school to be deeply boring. "Spanish."

"Impressive," she answered, smiling, and the thing is, she really did sound impressed, which made me feel… Not just flattered but… Justified? That's not the word I want; I can't think of the word I want. "I barely speak American," she added wryly, and I laughed, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"I'll tell you a secret: my Spanish is not great," I confided (and it's the sad, god's honest truth. My accent is atrocious and my grasp of the more advanced vocabulary and tenses is barely strong enough to rival that of my Spanish 4 students). "I, uh, majored in econ in college. But I kind of speak it and I do enjoy teaching it. And I also run the glee club at school, so I'm still involved with music. I still get to perform occasionally, even if it's just for the kids."

Our food arrived, and she grilled me about my kids, asked detailed questions about their personalities, hopes and dreams, and I couldn't help but answer every inquiry because she seemed so genuinely fascinated. I also told her all about the road to Sectionals, how I'd ended up disqualified and had to miss their performance, how it had broken my heart, how they'd won despite having two thirds of their setlist stolen by rival schools. She followed the story avidly, and I was surprised but very pleased by her unfeigned interest in what I was saying.

"I wish I could see you guys perform," she murmured finally, then looked surprised, as though she hadn't meant to express this thought out loud.

I was delighted, both at the thought of giving the kids a chance to show off for a stranger and at the thought of seeing her again, for reasons I refused to examine just then. "You should!" I exclaimed. "Come to our meeting Wednesday, we'll put together a performance for you. I think you'll be really impressed with them, they're so talented and they just work so hard. " I was already considering potential songs, imagining choreography in my head (_no, no, they won't have time for that…_).

"I don't know, Will." She sounded hesitant, and I felt suddenly deflated. "Wouldn't that be weird?"

I couldn't quite think of an answer for her question, because I had no experience with situations like this. I had no experience at all. It seemed to me that with one-night stands, the clue was in the title, and by those conventions we weren't supposed to see one another again, but… Really, I didn't care about the way we'd met, didn't want to let it get in the way of something I suspected might be... I don't even know, I'm so bad at explaining these things. The point is that I didn't know exactly what I wanted from her but I knew that there was something, and in order for me to figure out what that was I couldn't let her disappear.

"Look," I began, voice very serious. "I've never done this kind of thing before so I don't really know how it works. Is it against the rules for us to be friends? Because I'd like us to be." That wasn't quite the truth, of course, just part of it, but it was the part that was easiest to say out loud, the only part I fully understood because I still needed to think about everything else and now was not the time.

For a moment, I thought she was going to turn me down; there was something in her eyes, a sort of sympathetic light that I associated with gentle rejection, but she surprised me. "I'd like that too."

I grinned, and she grinned back, and I just felt… Like I was flying.

**TBC**

_Okay, honestly, I am not happy with the quality of this chapter at all. At all. I hate to do this to you, but I think I'm going to have to skip posting for one day in order to get a bit ahead and have time to properly edit each chapter. I hate posting anything that isn't polished to a shiny shine of shininess. SO, Chapter 8 will be posted late Thursday night/early Friday morning, and after that there should hopefully be no more pauses. I hope this is okay with you guys... I hate to let you down, I know how you love daily updates, but I really think maintaining quality is way more important. Thanks for understanding! - W_


	8. Control

Miss me? :)

_For jilly74, Wemmamazing, Sierra-Jae, Dementedx, PlainJane1 and xJuBee. Thanks for all your reassurances, they really helped me feel less guilty about falling behind! And of course for _**traceit**_, who is wholly responsible for the best parts of this chapter._

**8**

That soaring feeling deep in my chest lasted most of Saturday, which was shocking because my life had been completely destroyed little more than a week previous and at this point I should still have been in one of the early stages of mourning. And I was, of course I was: still devastated by Terri's betrayal, still grief-stricken by the loss of the child I'd thought I'd have, still unbalanced by the fact that the very foundation of my existence had suddenly dropped out from beneath my feet. The difference was that before Friday night I'd been falling, plummeting towards the ground without a parachute or any reason to believe I wouldn't eventually hit bottom and find myself completely obliterated by the impact. But after meeting Honor, I felt like I was flying; I was still diving down, still watching the ground rise up to meet me, swift and terrifying, but now I felt that I had some semblance of control, that I could choose where to land, how to land, and that I could manage it in a way that wouldn't kill me.

No matter what else happened or didn't happen between the two of us, I would always be grateful to her for that. She had shown me that my life wasn't empty, wasn't over, just because my marriage was, just because I'd lost my wife and my child and my entire future. Even before this had happened, I'd known that things weren't quite right between me and Terri, but she was my wife and honestly I didn't know anything other than her; she'd been part of my life for at least half of it. But she had been right when she'd said that I didn't love her, I loved the girl she used to be, and her loss was… It's hard to explain. I was upset about losing Terri, but I understood that I'd lost her long ago. That loss wasn't nearly as acute, nearly as painful as the loss of the child I'd thought we were having together. Most of the guys I knew had grown up thinking they didn't really want kids, or at least feeling ambivalent about the idea, but that had never been true for me; I'd always, always wanted children. My childhood had been so happy, my parents had been so wonderful, and I'd always known I wanted to make a real home and raise a real family. For a few blissful months I'd believed that dream was about to become a reality, and losing it was overwhelming.

It was entirely possible that I'd never fully get over it, but at least now I knew I could get past it, and I had Honor to thank. Just thinking about her was enough to make me feel optimistic about the future, to make me feel like I still had one, and I couldn't help but feel that somehow I wanted her in it. In what capacity, I had no idea, but I didn't think it would be enough just to see her Wednesday and then… Let her go? That isn't what I mean, she wasn't mine to keep so neither was she mine to release, but… I don't know that I'm explaining this right, or rather I know that I'm not. It's hard to put into words, and I've never been good at coming up with my own, I've always found it easier to channel my emotions through words someone else has written. But I can't really think of a song to fit this situation, to illustrate the point, so I'll just say that I understood that I didn't really know her, understood that better now than I had before, understood that it was entirely possible I was besotted by the idea of someone who didn't really exist. At the same time, I understood the idea of knowing someone in the biblical sense much better now. Despite the fact that we were relative strangers, I felt that we'd revealed ourselves to one another through the things we'd done to one another, and knowing what she'd unleashed in me, I rather suspected that in some ways she knew me better than I knew myself. And besides, I couldn't ignore that soaring feeling inside, couldn't take it for granted, because I'd never really felt it before, not with Terri or Emma or anyone.

Really, when I thought about it, it was strange. I believed in love at first sight because I'd experienced it, had known from the moment I saw Terri that she was The One, and I know that sounds crazy considering how it all ended, but we _were_ together for 16 years. We both changed, and grew apart, but she was The One for a good 10 years at least and that's more than a lot of people can say. Anyway, this feeling was nothing like that, nor was it like the gentle warmth of Emma's friendship. I think the best I can say is that Terri tore me down to control me, Emma built me up because she could see that I needed it, but Honor… Saw something in me that was completely different from what I saw in myself, must have, otherwise she'd never have gone home with me. Whatever she saw when she looked at me, I wanted to reflect that; I just had to figure out what it was first.

And I had to figure her out, too, because unlike me I could tell she was complicated. There had been that strange moment when we'd been discussing _Summerview_ and she'd just cracked down the middle like the outermost shell in a cheap set of Russian nesting dolls. For a fraction of a second she'd broken open and I could see someone else inside of her, someone a little smaller, perhaps a little more fragile, and it had surprised me because what she'd shown to me of herself up until that point hadn't seemed like a lie, and I hadn't realized how much she kept hidden inside. More than most, I suspected, which made her a mystery, which drew me because I'm a sucker for that kind of thing. I couldn't help wanting to open her and open her and open her, lay her bare before me the way I had the night before when I'd undressed her and looked at her in the dark. Whatever the spiritual equivalent of that was, that's what I wanted to do, whatever it took to just see her, the real her.

I'd never had a one-night stand before, of course, but I suspected these were not the thoughts that typically followed one. But it didn't matter. She'd said there were no rules, she'd said we could make our own, and I was, I would. Wednesday could not possibly come soon enough for me. As complicated as I knew she was, and as straightforward as I believe I am, I wanted her to see me, too, wanted her to see me doing what I did best, what I loved. And from the way she'd questioned me about it, the way she'd really listened to my answers, she was genuinely interested in what I did and why I did it, which was… Unexpected. Terri had basically equated the word _teacher_ with _failure_, had wished I'd do anything else, had never comprehended that it's what I was made for, and didn't care that it made me happy and that anything else would have made me miserable. To her, a job was a means to an end, just something that had to be done in order to earn enough money to buy every useless thing Pottery Barn had ever created. The concept of a calling was completely foreign to her.

Honor, on the other hand, struck me as the kind of person who understood. I couldn't help but wonder if she had a calling herself, what she did, what she loved, what drove her. She was passionate, I'd had ample proof of that, and I wanted to know what she was passionate about. I suspected it wouldn't be easy to find out, and the weird thing was, I didn't want it to be. As much as I wanted to see her, wanted to know her, I also wanted to earn it. Not just earn it but deserve it.

**TBC**


	9. Stars

_For Sierra-Jae, jilly74, PlainJane1 and Wemmamazing. You guys are as consistent in your praise as I am in my updates, and I appreciate your dedication SO much! And of course for _**traceit**_, who always challenges me to analyze every character's motivations as deeply as possible so that, um, you know, the things they do make sense..._

**9**

Sundays were usually my one true day off (Saturday didn't count because I tended to spend most of the day grading papers and organizing lesson plans… Teaching involves a lot of preparation outside of the classroom), but I'd spent all of the previous day in some kind of daze so I had a lot of work to do when I woke up. I made neat stacks of tests and worksheets on the coffee table in the living room, set out my two favorite red correcting pens and admired my handiwork, so organized and symmetrical. It's funny because I'm not an especially organized person, normally, but I have a system when it comes to grading papers and I become very upset when that system is disturbed, for example if some fifth period Spanish papers get mixed in with some from fourth period, and yes I realize I'm a little crazy. One of my piles was slightly off-center, which also annoys me, so I fixed it and then decided to put on a DVD to keep me company while I toiled away.

Whenever I'm sick or depressed, I always turn to _Singin' In The Rain_ to cheer me up. Not the manliest of favorite movies, I know, but I don't care, because it's amazing, and anyway I'd rarely felt sadness so deep that the whole _Make 'Em Laugh_ sequence couldn't cure it. The strange thing is that when I'm not depressed, I turn to a completely different kind of film. I've never been able to figure out why, but for some reason when I'm happy the only thing I want to watch is _Saving Private Ryan_, or if I'm really overjoyed _Schindler's List_. Maybe because I secretly love anything about WWII but can't handle it when I'm upset already? Not sure, but I suppose it was indicative of how much meeting Honor had affected me that I chose Tom Hanks and Matt Damon over Gene Kelly without a second thought, then settled down on the couch to watch it out of the corner of my eye while slowly chipping away at the mountains of homework before me.

I'd only managed to make a depressingly small dent in them by the time the movie had reached its halfway point, and I was considering taking a break to put together some lunch when I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door. It could only be one person, of course, and I could feel the resentment that had receded so nicely since Friday night slowly rising within me once more. But I was resolved that I wouldn't let Terri goad me into a confrontation, wouldn't let her manipulate me for her own sick pleasure. She wasn't my problem anymore, wasn't going to be ever again, and that was all that mattered.

"Working on a Sunday, Will?" she asked as she entered the apartment, her voice mild and sweet and curious, as though the past week had never happened and everything was completely normal. As much as I wanted to feel nothing, to be immune to her, I wasn't because I couldn't be, not after 16 years. The sight of her standing there, the tilt of her lips and lift of her brows so familiar, filled me with hurt and anger and an ache I couldn't quite identify. And something like defeat. I'd wanted so badly to be strong, had thought I could be stronger than this, but at least she couldn't read my mind, didn't know the turmoil she was causing.

"Yeah," I answered, my voice as indifferent as I wanted to be, standing and facing her. Without conscious thought I crossed my arms over my chest, instinctively trying to put some kind of barrier between us as she looked at me with a gentle smile on her face. It was… Confusing, because I'd known her for so long, loved her for so long, and she looked the same, but she looked different somehow, too. Then I realized she was slim again, no longer pregnant, because she never had been. The realization hurt all over again. It hurt as much as it had the first time, and the visual reminder of her lie obliterated any confusion, intensified my anger. But I reminded myself not to give her the satisfaction of showing it.

"I thought you'd be gone," she told me, which I didn't believe at all; I usually spent Sunday lounging around the house just because I could, and I knew she'd expected to find me here, wanted to.

I shrugged. "I'm not, I'm grading some papers. But if you're here to pick up some things, it's fine, I'll just keep working." It was a not-so-subtle hint that I needed her away from me, but even not-so-subtle was too subtle for Terri.

"Is that really what you want?" Her voice was soft as she drew nearer. "For me to pick up some things, go back to Kendra's?"

She placed one hand on my arm, and I felt an echo of something from long ago, an echo of the desperation she'd once filled me with. I used to feel so whole when she touched me. Now all I felt was a memory of that, contrasted sharply with the new emptiness inside me. It reminded me of stars, the way some are so far away that they're long dead by the time their light reaches us, and I realized my love for Terri had burned out long ago, that the remembered warmth I'd tried to hold on to was the shining of a star that had collapsed in on itself millennia ago. And now even that was gone.

My lips compressed themselves into a thin, unhappy line as I pulled away from her and glared. "Yes, that's exactly what I want. Don't do this, Terri; I don't want to go over it again."

"Will, please," she whispered, reaching up to cradle my face, and this time I felt nothing, no echo, no ache, just a vague sense of annoyance. And strangely enough, that saddened me, because my emotions for her had once been so all-consuming. "Haven't you missed me this last week? I moved to Kendra's for a few days to give you some time, give you some space, but-"

Again, I pulled away, laughed bitterly because it really was funny. "Well it hasn't been enough time, and this isn't nearly enough space. Go get your things. Hell, I'll even help you carry them out to your car. But we're not having this discussion now."

"I think now is exactly when we should be having it," she began, and her voice was still soft but I could hear it sharpening, knew the effort of maintaining her pretense of sweetness was becoming difficult for her despite all the practice she'd had. "I know you're angry with me, but we can work this out, I know it. You can forgive me, Will. It's time for you to forgive me."

I shook my head, wondering how she could be so delusional. Didn't she understand what she'd done to me, to us? Apparently not. I remembered what I'd said a week ago, that she'd made herself a stranger to me, and it was true. She looked like the woman I'd loved, walked like her and talked like her and even smelled like her, all lavender and grass, but she hadn't been that woman for a very long time. It was impossible for me to love this stranger, impossible for me to forgive her. "Honestly, Terri, I don't know if I can, and even if I could it's not going to happen now."

"Was what I did so wrong?" She looked at me with pleading eyes, her entire attitude penitent, but I knew her well enough to know it was just a pose, just an act. I had always known it but hadn't wanted to acknowledge the fact, had preferred a life of willing suspension of disbelief, and in that way everything was as much my fault as hers. But I'd never lied to her, ever. "I love you, I was losing you… I wanted to keep you, that's all."

"You really don't get it," I snapped, fighting to hold my anger in check the way I'd promised myself I would. "And that's fine, I don't expect you to. But again. We are not. Having. This. Discussion. Now." Each word was very clearly enunciated, and I pointed down the hall to the bedroom. "Just get your things and leave, Terri, I have a lot of work to get through."

"You love me," she told me, so utterly certain that I'm not sure how I managed to refrain from refuting her, and her tone was growing sharper with every word. "We both know you can't manage without me. So why put ourselves through this charade? You're just going to want me back next week or the week after."

This was what she always did, what I'd always hated, tearing me down, making barely veiled insults and phrasing them as though they were facts. Just a few days ago, I might have believed them, but now… "Maybe you're right, maybe I will want you back" (_no chance in hell_) "but it doesn't matter. For now I want you gone."

"You don't know what you're saying, Will," she said. "Half the time you don't know what you want until I tell you."

I wasn't sure if that had ever been true; I think she though that because I'd always been so willing to compromise for her, because I loved her and that's how love works and she'd never understood that. But if it had ever been true at all it certainly wasn't now. "You're wrong. I can manage just fine without you. Better, even. And I don't need you to tell me I want that." And oh god, it felt so good to say those words, felt like I'd always wanted to say them, and the best part was that I believed them.

That statement was apparently too much for her, and her façade shattered. She rolled her eyes, and this was the Terri I remembered, the Terri I strongly disliked. "Don't be ridiculous," she laughed. "I've always been the one to push you, the one to motivate you. You wouldn't have the first clue about how to get by without me. You're nothing without me."

If she had purposely constructed that sentence to taunt me and snap my control (which actually she may have) she could not have done a better job, but strangely I just felt… Calm. I thought of Honor, the way she did the exact opposite of what Terri did, stating her compliments as facts, looking at me like she truly believed they were, as though whatever she saw in me was something anyone could see. She'd said I was amazing and handsome and impressive and maybe I was and maybe I wasn't, but the fact that there was one person in the world who believed all of that about me as a matter of course, without bias, made it easier than I'd have dreamed to hold fast against Terri's abuse.

"That's not true," I informed her, almost gently. "I'm something better without you." She looked at me in shock, opened her mouth to speak, but I continued before she could. "I'm going to go pick up some lunch, why don't you take your time gathering your things? You might as well pack most of it," I added. "I don't think you'll be coming back here for awhile." _Or ever._

She blinked at me as though she'd never seen me before, and suddenly I thought maybe she hadn't, and I couldn't help but smile as I exited the apartment, leaving her behind.

**TBC**


	10. Reassurances

_For _Sierra-Jae, xJuBee, jilly74, Valentinas, Wemmamazing, Dementedx, PlainJane1 _and _Secondhand Symphony. _Seriously, I can't say it enough, your feedback means SO much to me! (And I totally agree that Will should have more character development on the show, grrr. At least we can give it to him here, right?) Also, of course, for **traceit**, who saved you guys from being smacked over the head repeatedly by some very heavy-handed repetition in this chapter._

**10**

The weekend, not to mention the preceding week, had been a kind of emotional rollercoaster, but I felt a sense of restored equilibrium come Monday. Overall, the last two days had been far more good than bad, and I'm not going to lie, the sex was a big part of it. It had been nearly five months since Terri had let me touch her, and even then it hadn't been anything like Friday night, or Saturday morning, or all the fantasies that were now playing endlessly in my mind (which I felt bad about because I try not to think of women as purely sexual objects and didn't want to think that way about Honor either, but it was hard not to when I remembered my hands in her hair, her mouth sliding up and down my length and this is a bad train of thought, I need to refocus). But the confrontation with Terri had also been a kind of highpoint for me. Just knowing that I hadn't let her manipulate or control me made me feel powerful in a way I rarely had before. I'd never walked away from an argument with her believing that I'd won until now, and it was a heady sensation. Between those two factors, my self-esteem was at an all-time high and I was much more relaxed and cheerful than one would expect given all the upheaval in my life. Not like, "the hills are alive with the sound of music" ecstatic, or anything, just relaxed and cheerful considering the circumstances, but I'd take it.

I arrived at school a half-hour early, as usual, and headed to the teacher's lounge in the hopes that someone had brought in donuts or maybe danishes or something. What can I say, I'm an optimist, and in this case it paid off in the form of a coffee cake courtesy of one of the office receptionists. Without consciously choosing to, I hummed _Summerview_ quietly to myself as I cut a piece, smiled as I reflected that the song had so many layers of meaning for me now. It had always been catchy, and then it had been devastating, and now it was a kind of… Lucky charm, or something, I'm not sure, but it had apparently been responsible for one of the best nights of my life, and I realize these are three very different emotions to fit into a single song at the same time, but I'm just explaining how it was, not why.

"Good morning, Will." Emma's soft, sweet voice interrupted my thoughts, and I felt a minor tingle of alarm at the thought of facing her. It's not that I felt guilty, precisely, since we weren't together and I didn't know if we would be, but I worried that she'd somehow be able to read what had happened over the weekend in my expression, because she was good at that kind of thing. In a strange way I felt as though I wanted to protect her from the knowledge of such sordid things as one-night stands and violent sex, because I couldn't imagine her understanding any of it, knew it would shock her to know I could behave that way as much as it had shocked myself.

I turned and smiled at her, a genuine smile, because she was really my only friend, and she was beautiful, and looking at her always made me feel a little lighter. Today was no different; the sight of her with her shining red hair, gentle smile and adorably whimsical sweater set still filled me with warmth, but it was… Before, I'd equated that warmth with desire, a pure kind of non-sexual desire which makes no sense, I know, but again I'm just explaining how it was, not why. The curve of her mouth reminded me of the kiss we'd shared, a kiss I could remember I'd wanted, but now I understood that warmth and heat were two different things. Her lips against mine, my lips against hers, whatever had passed between us, it had felt good. But not anything other than good, if that makes sense. All warmth, no heat, and I didn't know what that meant for us.

"Hello, Emma," I began, offering her my slice of coffee cake. "Would you like some of this? It's the breakfast of champions."

She continued to smile, but eyed the coffee cake warily, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of eating food someone else had brought off of paper plates of dubious cleanliness. "Oh, thank you, but I, um, already ate. At home. Before I came here, you know."

"Ah, right," I responded, moving towards the closest empty table, and she followed, sitting across from me.

"Was that _Summerview_ you were humming just now?" she asked, somewhat randomly. "I never knew you were a Norah Castle fan."

I shrugged. "She's got a great voice. I don't know why, but I've had that song stuck in my head all week."

"It's one of my favorites. It's just funny you were singing it because I've been thinking about her for the last few days," she added, which seemed strange to me.

"You were thinking about her because…?" I prompted when she didn't continue. She was staring at me with a familiar kind of glazed look in her eyes, one whose cause had always been a complete mystery.

"Hm, what?" she murmured before coming back to herself. She blushed a little and hurried to fill the silence. "Oh, well, I know her. Knew her. A little, awhile ago, like… You know, high school. We were friends in high school."

"Wow." I'd known she was from Lima, of course- she was our only hometown celebrity- but I'd never met anyone who actually knew her. "I'm impressed!"

She laughed a little. "Well, it was a long time ago, I haven't spoken to her in years, but I heard some news about her recently that put her in my mind. It's not important."

"What's she like?" I questioned, genuinely curious. After discovering so much in her song, I couldn't help but wonder about the person who'd written it.

Emma tilted her head to the side, considering. "Well, when I knew her, she was… Lonely, I guess. Didn't have many friends. And she was very intense, had this kind of focused energy. I always knew she'd do something special with it."

I nodded, thinking that intense focus was the main prerequisite for achieving the kind of success she had. "So you didn't keep in touch after graduation?"

"No," she murmured, a vaguely worried look on her face. "Actually, she didn't graduate at all. She… Left Lima toward the end of our sophomore year. I really wonder how she is." Her concern was real and touching, but also a little misplaced. It wasn't like she'd disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be heard from again.

"Well, I think I read that her last album sold 900,000 copies its first week, so she's probably doing just fine," I pointed out, and she smiled.

"I hope so." And then she looked at me with what I thought of as her Guide And Counsel face, very serious and sympathetic. "But enough about that. How are you?"

I knew she wasn't asking in the polite small-talk kind of way, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unsure of how much to tell her. But I knew I had to say something. When she'd last seen me on Friday afternoon, I'd clearly been a mess, and it was obvious something had changed… Not that I'd tell her what… Not that I even knew what, really.

"I'm doing… Better," I said, and it was true. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I'm starting to just feel a little better about the whole situation."

"Have you… Decided what you're going to do?" she probed delicately. "About, you know, if you're going to… Get a divorce or… Not?"

"Yes," I answered definitively. "I'm going to file as soon as I figure out how." And now that I thought about it, that, more than anything, was the reason for my lightheartedness. I'd made a choice without being dictated to, and it was such a relief to not have all the uncertainty, to feel a sense of closure. Still, it was a depressing choice to have to make.

She looked at me with compassion in her expression, nodded sadly (and this was one of Emma's best traits, her ability to put the feelings of others before her own, because I know that somewhere inside she must have been pleased to hear this news but she never showed it, only worried about how I was feeling). "I'm so sorry, Will. I know this is hard for you."

"Thanks." I met her warm brown eyes with mine and felt soothed by the empathy I saw there. Aside from Honor, she was the only one to have said those words. "There just… Isn't anything else I can do. What we had is too broken to repair, even if I wanted to."

"What do you think her reaction will be, once you file?" she asked, and I shrugged helplessly. I'd been wondering that myself.

"She... Won't be pleased. But I don't think she'll be surprised. She came by the apartment yesterday, and we had a discussion about the situation. I told her what I was feeling. I don't know if she understood it," I added, because honestly I didn't think she had, wasn't sure if Terri was even capable of understanding what I'd explained to her.

"You must be very angry with her," Emma stated.

"I am," I admitted. "But sometimes I think I'm angrier with myself. I was willfully blind, and I'm not blameless, you know?"

"Don't say that," she chastised, gaze never wavering from mine. "You have to remember that you're one of the kindest people I know. Everyone's relationships have problems, but you didn't intentionally cause yours."

"I know," I sighed. "But I have to blame myself somewhat anyway." And it was funny, because I appreciated the way Emma always tried to build me up, of course I did, but there was also… Knowing that she thought I needed to have my ego stroked made me feel diminished, somehow, coddled? I don't know if that's the word I want; maybe I could find it more easily in Spanish (um, maybe not). I just mean that she was always saying things like this because she believed I lacked confidence, and I'm not saying that wasn't true. But it made me feel weak, to know that she saw me as someone who needed her reassurances to shore up my self-worth. Besides, she was my friend, and had other feelings for me, and as such wasn't exactly unbiased. Despite knowing she meant everything she said, it was impossible not to think that she had to mean it because of what I was to her.

I couldn't help doing the ungentlemanly thing then, couldn't help mentally comparing Emma's compliments to Honor's. The thing about Honor that made me feel so good wasn't just what she said, it was the way she said it. When she told me I was impressive, for example, she hadn't been trying to make me feel good about myself. She'd said it the same way she'd have said that the sky was blue, as though it was obvious, as though anyone could look at me and see it, as though I must know it. It had been the same way when we'd had sex. Before, during, after, she hadn't showered me with praise, extolled the (questionable) virtues of my body or my (questionable) technique. Instead she'd simply said _I want you inside me_ (and just thinking about it… oh _god_) and then let me know by her responses that she loved what I was doing to her. At the end of the night when she'd said it had been amazing, she hadn't said it to reassure me; she'd made it a statement of fact, because she already knew I knew.

"…so really you can't blame yourself," Emma finished, and I realized I'd barely heard a single word she'd said. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty about my distraction, but I comprehended the basics of what she was telling me. The fact that she could truly believe I shouldn't blame myself reminded me that she was strangely innocent for her age.

Looking at her, I found myself wondering exactly what I felt for her. Friendship, certainly, a kind of wistful longing, perhaps, but for the first time it occurred to me that as much as I cared about her, it was possible any romantic inclination I'd had towards her was due more to her being there when everything was falling apart at home than anything else. My marriage hadn't been happy for a long time, and Emma had always been a ray of sunshine in my sometimes dreary life. But had I developed feelings for her just because she so clearly had feelings for me, just because I knew she wouldn't reject me, just because her admiration soothed the hurt of Terri's neglect? We had grown to be so different, Terri and I, and Emma was so much like me, but was that really a good basis for a relationship? What could I bring to her world that she didn't already have? These thoughts filled my mind in a rush, nearly overwhelming me, but I promised myself I'd think about it later and tried to focus my attention.

"Maybe not," I answered in reference to her insistence that I not blame myself, just to reassure her. "But I'll let you know what happens... I'm planning to call a few firms later today, that seems like the best place to start." Really, I had no idea how one went about obtaining a divorce, but surely finding an attorney was the first step.

"Just let me know if you need anything," Emma murmured. "I'm happy to help in any way I can." I knew she didn't just mean this as a friend, and given my most recent thoughts it made me uncomfortable.

"Thank you," I responded sincerely, because I was grateful, of course I was. "I'd better get going, Em, I have a few things to go over before first period. See you at lunch?"

She smiled at me. "Of course. But Will, honestly… Don't let this upset you too badly. You're better than all of it."

Still. Again. It felt good. Just good, not anything other than.

**TBC**


	11. Cardigan

_For_ xJuBee, animexluva13, Sierra-Jae, Secondhand Symphony, Valentinas, jilly74, PlainJane1 _and_ Wemmamazing. _I know many of you are huge Wemma fans and I really appreciate that you're willing to stick this out with me even though the last chapter was difficult for you :) I just want to assure you that 10 is not the final word on Will's feelings for Emma; trust me and I promise you won't be disappointed! Also, of course, for_ **traceit**._ She's been so helpful these last few chapters, keeping the pacing just right. If you think it's not... That's my fault._

**11**

As it turned out, I didn't see Emma at lunch that day the way I usually did, and inside I couldn't help but feel a little relieved. The thoughts I'd had that morning had surprised and confused me to the extent that I still wasn't sure what I was really feeling. Part of me understood that I was infatuated with Honor, that I wasn't thinking clearly, that I'd known and cared for Emma for years and wasn't being fair to her. But at the same time, those facts didn't mean that all of the possibilities I'd started considering before class weren't valid. It all made my head hurt, to be quite honest, because I'm the kind of person who makes decisions based on emotions and I've never been good at analyzing them. So it was difficult to try to figure out what my feelings were for Emma and why, especially considering my preoccupation with Honor, and I was glad that I didn't have to spend a full 45 minutes sitting across from Emma in the teacher's lounge, attempting to carry on a conversation but too hopelessly distracted by everything to succeed.

Instead, I ate at my desk while googling various ways of obtaining a divorce in the state of Ohio, which wasn't necessarily an improvement now that I think about it. By the time I'd finished my sandwich, my mind was so full of confusing legal terms that everything else had been forced out and I was literally dizzy with them. The one thing I could say for sure was that Terri could make the whole process either very easy by agreeing to a dissolution, or very difficult by insisting upon a court-ordered divorce, where I'd have to prove grounds for ending the marriage. I figured demonstrating her "extreme cruelty" (defined as "acts and/or conduct calculated to destroy the peace of mind and happiness of one of the parties to the marriage") would be the easiest thing ever; it would just take so much longer, and now that I'd made my decision I just wanted it over with as soon as humanly possible. I wasn't sure how likely I was to get my wish, for obvious reasons, so I took down the numbers of a few promising-sounding firms that were used to handling either situation, and resolved to contact them after glee rehearsal.

It's funny, but as much as I love teaching- and I do, I really do, I'd teach anything they asked me to, including economics which I hate despite having majored in it- nothing gets me through a difficult day like knowing I have glee to look forward to after the last bell rings. Teachers aren't supposed to have favorites, but really I couldn't help it, I just loved my glee kids so much. They were all so special, so talented, and watching them work so hard week after week filled me with excitement and pride because I just knew they all had incredible futures ahead of them, and I hoped I'd had something to do with that, in some small way. Maybe I was deluding myself. Rachel, for example, certainly didn't need me to become a star; I knew she'd achieve that all on her own, whether I'd ever met her or not. But I liked to think I'd helped teach her other lessons that would be useful in her future life, that would make things easier for her, because people are more likely to help you out when they like you, and I hoped someday I'd get her to understand that.

Anyway, the point is that my day had been somewhat stressful, and trying to figure out everything with Emma as well as dealing with so much legalese had made my head swim, and by 3:15 I was more than ready to spend the next two hours singing and dancing with my favorite students. I was also excited to discuss song selection with them, because while we had a good repertoire of standards to choose from, I really wanted to put together something special for Honor. Not just because I wanted her to be impressed with me (though I did), but because I wanted her to be impressed with the kids, as impressed as I was. If she wasn't, if she couldn't be, that would significantly lessen our chances of ever being anything to each other, even friends. In a way, it was almost a test, because while Terri had resented the kids, Emma obviously loved them as much as I did, and that was something I'd always loved about her, something I knew I needed to see in anyone I might possibly become involved with, and I was hoping so much to see it in Honor. These thoughts were completely subconscious, however; I wasn't thinking about what she and I were at all, if we were anything, but looking back I can see that this was what Wednesday was really about for me.

The students began to file into the choir room as soon as their last classes were dismissed, which always made me smile. It made me think that they looked forward to glee as much as I did, even the ones who'd die before admitting it, such as Santana and Puck, the former ambling in with Brittany while the latter entered with Quinn, who looked pale and drawn. Seeing her was somewhat painful for me, honestly; she was pregnant, my (soon to be ex) wife wasn't, and her baby was to have been mine. Not that I would have known it, if things had gone according to plan, but her rounded belly was a strong visual reminder of what I'd lost. Additionally, it was hard to look at her without remembering that she had lied to Finn in much the way Terri had lied to me, at least in terms of magnitude. As Finn had always reminded me of myself, I couldn't help but have some anger towards Quinn on his behalf (as well as my own, for the betrayal she'd been a part of). But of course there was a major difference: she was a girl stuck in a horrible, confusing situation, while Terri was just… Horrible. Besides, when it came right down to it she was one of my beloved kids, and no amount of betrayal could change that, which is how I imagined I'd feel about my own children if I ever had any (and I couldn't help but wonder, sadly, if I'd ever know for sure).

Finn made his awkward appearance with Matt and Mike, Tina arrived wheeling Artie, Kurt and Mercedes' grand entrance was accompanied by a heated fashion debate (and between Kurt's red suspenders and Mercedes' neon zebra sweater, I couldn't imagine who was winning), but Rachel filed in last, alone. She looked unusually subdued, and I deduced that whatever was happening between Puck, Quinn and Finn wasn't turning out quite the way she'd hoped. Just as part of me wanted to be angry with Quinn for all she'd done, part of me was furious with Rachel for revealing the truth to Finn. But really she'd done the right thing, even if it had been for the wrong reasons, even if it had almost torn our happy little family apart. And yes, I'd seen all of this, I'd known all of this, because it was my job to know and because I loved them, but as much as I'd wanted to step in and solve everyone's problems for them, that isn't what teaching is about. I'd learned that I had to let them make their own mistakes, no matter how much it hurt to watch, which is also similar to parenthood, I suppose.

After everyone had taken their seats, I began rehearsal, speaking energetically, full of excitement. "Alright, guys, how was everyone's weekend?" The kids glanced around uneasily, confused, possibly because the last time they'd seen me I'd been a total mess, destroyed by Terri, high off their win, giddy over Emma, and now I was just… Back to normal, or so it must have appeared to them. But I didn't think any of them would question me, so I ignored their looks. "Good, I hope! And I hope you rested up, because this week is going to be busy."

"Um, why?" Puck demanded, not bothering to raise his hand. "We just owned Sectionals, what else is there to worry about right now?" There was a chorus of agreement throughout the group, which Rachel naturally did not join.

"I for one am not content to rest on my laurels," she said primly, "and you shouldn't be either. We got lucky with Sectionals, but the competition at Regionals will be much more intense."

Before anyone could jump on her for this assessment, I interrupted. "Rachel's right, guys, but that's actually not why this week is going to be busy." At her dismayed look, I added "We're not going to rest on our laurels-" (and I should note that as much as I love Brittany, the confusion on her face as I repeated that phrase was hilarious… I'm sorry, but it was) "-but we have earned the right to have a little fun, I think!"

"Yes!" Puck agreed. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

I smiled at him, then at each member of the club individually as I continued speaking. "You guys did an amazing job at Sectionals with choosing a set on the fly, and I think that kind of flexibility is a major asset. So today we're going to choose another song, rehearse it for the rest of our time together, and then come prepared to perform it on Wednesday."

"That is so not what I'm talkin' about," Puck muttered dejectedly. Whatever else he said was too low to make out completely, but I swear I heard the word _strippers_ pretty clearly. I ignored him, instead looking at the kids expectantly.

"Well? What do you think?" I asked when no one gave any feedback.

"I dunno, Mr. Schue," Finn answered. "I mean, I don't think we should practice like what happened at Sectionals is gonna be what always happens, because if it is… Um, it was kinda stressful."

"I understand-" I began, before Rachel jumped in.

"But that's the point," she informed him, and her voice was sharper than necessary. "If we're prepared to handle that situation in the future, it won't be stressful anymore. One less thing to worry about. And I do have a few songs in mind…"

"Oh hell no," Mercedes spoke up. "I don't want to hear them. Your solo at Sectionals was amazing, Rachel, even I can admit that, but that just proves you don't need that kind of practice like we do. If this is going to help us we need to work out a new group number."

"I completely agree," Kurt… completely agreed.

"Mercedes is right," I determined, sighing internally when Rachel compressed her lips and scowled, mutinous. "What I'd really like to have you do is try to arrange an acapella number with multiple solos so everyone can be featured. First of all, an acapella arrangement on the fly is very difficult; if you can do that, you can do anything. And second of all, _everyone_ has to be ready to handle a solo at a moment's notice. Just in case."

Rachel nodded once, shortly. "Fine. I can understand that those without my training would need help in that regard." This was as close as I'd ever gotten to a concession from her.

"Great," I enthused, pretending to be blind to the glares being directed at the back of Rachel's head, glad she was sitting in the front and couldn't see them. "And to give you all a little motivation, I just want to let you know that there will be a mystery guest Wednesday, who's coming specifically to see you all perform whatever song we choose today."

"Who is it?" Tina inquired.

"Ms. Pillsbury?" Artie suggested. "She was the celebrity judge when we did mashups…"

I shook my head. "It's not Ms. Pillsbury. It's someone you've never met. I can't tell you anything else, or it won't be a mystery."

"It's a girl," Puck stated with certainty. "Well, a lady anyway. Your ears are turning red, Mr. Schue," he explained, his raised eyebrows and amused smirk adding up to a very sly expression.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I told him with as much dignity as I could muster. My ears hadn't been burning before, I was sure of it, but at Puck's statement I could feel a blush I couldn't control and goddamn my fair skin straight to hell. "Now let's think, how about a nice ensemble musical piece? _See That Building_ from _Working_, maybe…" And actually that song wasn't appropriate at all but I hoped my rambling would distract the kids from what Puck had pointed out, and distract myself from dwelling on it and turning even redder.

"Mr. Schue, if I may?" Kurt asked, raising his hand gracefully. I nodded at him, and he continued. "I believe that if we're going to choose something to perform on the fly, it ought to be a song everyone already knows. Much as I personally love songs from musicals, we only have two hours to put this together, and in real life circumstances we'd have much less than that; it's not very realistic to think we'd choose a song we didn't know."

"Yeah, and it would be nice to do a song that isn't 20 years old," Santana added, her tone as snarky and uninterested as usual (but it didn't escape my notice that she'd been paying attention and had cared enough to speak up, no matter how indifferent she sounded).

"Well…" I hesitated. "You guys have a point, but-"

"Look," Puck began. "If you want to impress some chick, having us perform a show tune is really not the way to do it." All the guys, even Kurt, nodded in agreement.

"Why would anyone want to impress a chicken?" Brittany inquired, sounding genuinely puzzled. Santana leaned over to explain it to her; everyone else, used to such things, ignored her completely.

"Believe it or not, Puck, I don't need advice on impressing, um, chicks," I told him, wryly.

"I knew it was a girl," he grinned, and I could have kicked myself for confirming his suspicions. "Of the two of us, I'm the one who isn't wearing a cardigan, so I think we should leave the seduction technique to me."

"Second," Santana said, turning away from Brittany to give Puck a lustful glance, causing him to preen and Brittany to pout.

"All in favor?" Puck continued.

"Aye," came the response from everyone in the room, except Rachel.

I looked at all of them, eleven in favor, one abstaining, and sighed. "Okay, you win. I'm going to sit at the piano and grade some papers. Choose a song between yourselves within the next ten minutes, and then clear it with me. Does that sound fair?"

The kids didn't respond, only grouped together, buzzing excitedly, and I reflected that I really ought to allow them to choose their own songs more often; they clearly had plenty of ideas, and I clearly knew nothing about current popular hits. Or not much anyway.

I just hoped that whatever they chose would be appropriate, and that they could get it together well enough to… Well, impress the chick.

**TBC**


	12. Focus

_For _Sierra-Jae, jilly74, PlainJane1, Secondhand Symphony _and_ Wemmamazing_. Thank you so much for your continued support, and happy (belated) Valentine's Day! And of course for _**traceit**_. I totally rewrote this chapter four or five times and might have rewritten it four or five more if she hadn't assured me it was shiny enough to post._

**12**

Wednesday afternoon, I threw the door to the choir room open with more force than necessary and stalked across the floor, slamming my messenger bag down violently on the table. I'd been on edge the entire day, sick with guilt over the way I was avoiding Emma, the way she knew I was, and it had only gotten worse as the day wore on. It's not that I didn't want to see her or speak with her, it's just that I was finding it so difficult to sort out my feelings and seeing her just made my confusion worse and also I'm a horrible person. That would have been enough to deal with on its own, but there were other issues as well. Sitting at the piano, I ran my fingers along the keys, wanting to play something to help myself relax but incapable of choosing anything, and anyway my hands were literally trembling with repressed rage, courtesy of Sue Sylvester. She had accosted me in the hall and demanded I tell Figgins I had no objection to her reinstatement, and the whole thing had degenerated into a ridiculous shouting match until I'd finally just walked away, but I was still shaken by it.

I like to think of myself as a fairly even-tempered guy, and I hated the effect Sue had on me, but more than anything I hated that she took her antipathy for me out on glee and my kids. It wasn't fair, and after what she'd done at Sectionals I'd really hoped her suspension would lead to her eventual firing. Figgins was wavering for reasons I couldn't imagine. Really the only thing that had resulted from her suspension was an increase in her hostility towards me, something I'd believed to be impossible. The thought of what she might do to me or the kids now that I was standing between her and being reinstated had me genuinely worried.

Under normal circumstances I'd at least be able to look forward to seeing the kids, but all day I'd felt a cold knot of dread in my stomach every time I even thought about rehearsal. I wasn't worried about what my students had planned; I had nothing but faith in their ability to put something fantastic together (or at least in Rachel's ability to force them to put something fantastic together), even if I disliked not knowing exactly what it was. But I couldn't help but panic when I remembered that Honor would be coming to see the performance, that I'd be seeing her again for the first time since Saturday, and it had been so long since I'd felt the sick fear of nerves. It was just that so many things could go wrong. The fact that she'd been interested in me to begin with had been something of a miracle, one I couldn't account for, and it was entirely possible that watching me do my mundane real job in the mundane real world would obliterate whatever it was she'd thought she'd seen in me.

And, of course, there was always the possibility that she just wouldn't show up. Maybe promising to stop by this afternoon had been her version of _I'll call you_, and maybe if I'd had more experience with everything I'd have known that, and maybe I was going to be completely humiliated in front of the kids. More than that, maybe I was going to be… disappointed, more disappointed than I ought to be. Since Saturday I'd built her up so much in my mind, had imagined so many scenarios (with ratings from G to NC-17), that I knew I'd feel a real sense of loss if she didn't come. I'm not stupid; I understood that the things I felt could be due to an intense infatuation I couldn't control, but knowing that didn't make those emotions feel any less real, any less like something else entirely.

Anyway, all these thoughts only served to intensify the headache my confrontation with Sue had caused, but I found myself distracted from the pounding behind my eyes when the kids entered the room. They were all together for once, which wasn't exactly normal, and I was happy to see the group, well, in a group. It seemed that simply allowing them to choose their own song had helped cement the bond that had become apparent at Sectionals, the bond I'd worried would dissolve once the pressure of competition was over. I beamed at them. "Hey guys, you're all right on time!"

"A true performer is never late. Well, unless it's on purpose, to make an entrance," Rachel informed everyone. They ignored her, didn't even roll their eyes, which was remarkably tolerant of them, a reassuring sign that she'd been playing well with others for once.

"Well, then you're all true performers," I told them as they took their seats, smiling and chattering happily. "So? How did working out the arrangement go? I can't wait to see what you came up with!"

"It was kinda fun, Mr. Schue," Finn answered, sounding mildly surprised. "Rachel divided up all the parts, 'cause she knows the most about that stuff-" (Rachel looked delighted at this statement of fact) "-and the rest of us decided who got which parts, and we put it all together… It sounds good," he finished proudly.

"It really does," Kurt agreed, nodding.

"And for once I'm not just wailing on the last note," Mercedes added, shooting me a stern glance. I made a mental note to feature her more heavily, regardless of Rachel's objections (and she'd certainly make some).

Puck pursed his lips, nodding. "Yeah, it's pretty badass. But where's the chick, Mr. Schue? We need to get this party started."

"She isn't here yet," I replied. "She'll be here soon, and by the way, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her a chick when she shows up. She's a friend of mine and I expect you all to treat her with respect."

"Well, yeah, you don't call a chick a chick to her face," Puck answered, offended by the very suggestion that he'd think otherwise.

I had no response for that. "Uh, right. Well. You can all just socialize or work on homework until she gets here, okay? I told her 3:30 so she should arrive any minute."

The kids seemed happy enough to continue the conversations they'd been carrying on when they entered, and I pulled out some sheet music to sort through while we waited. I became engrossed in my work, carefully separating songs I thought we might attempt from songs I knew we shouldn't, but when the clock declared that it was 3:45, I started worrying that my worst-case scenario had come to pass and she simply wasn't coming. But then why would she show up? There was really nothing about me that would make someone as beautiful and confident and experienced as she was want to see me again. Maybe the night that had been so amazing for me had been nothing special for her, which was entirely possible because I was nothing special, and I just felt so… Stupid, really.

"Mr. Schuester," Rachel began, interrupting my thoughts, and I looked up to see her lowering her hand. I wondered how long she'd kept it up before realizing I wasn't paying attention. "I understand you'd like us to wait for your friend to arrive, but really we don't have the time to be sitting around doing nothing. I have a long list of songs we should consider for Regionals, chosen to showcase our strongest singers-"

"Oh, so just you then?" Mercedes asked sarcastically.

Rachel looked somehow offended and guilty all at once as she smoothed down her skirt. "I think it's only natural that in an important competition we'd want to focus on the one of us with the most training and experience, but of course there are parts for everyone."

"Small, small parts," Kurt muttered in a loud stage whisper, and the offended look on Rachel's face intensified.

Rather than respond to Kurt or Mercedes, however, she focused all of her attention on me. "Whether my fellow glee clubbers agree with my list or not, the point is that it makes no sense to waste this rehearsal waiting for someone who might not show up."

I tried to control my exasperation, but it was difficult. All I knew was that giving in and starting rehearsal before Honor arrived would be the same as admitting she wasn't coming, and I wasn't quite ready to do that. "Rachel, I understand your concern," I began, and my voice sounded normal despite what was going on in my mind, "but my friend will be here any minute and I think it's only polite that we wait for her. She's really looking forward to seeing you perform and I want her to get the whole effect, not walk in while we're all rehearsing different songs."

Puck raised his hand for once, but began to speak before I could call on him. "I'm not usually into agreeing with Rachel, but she might actually be right about this, Mr. Schue. I'm kinda thinking you got stood up," _Gee, thanks._ "So we might as well get some work done. Or, you know, leave and do something fun."

"Thanks for that perspective, Puck," I responded, and again I managed to repress all my inclinations towards sarcasm. "But we're going to wait a few more minutes. Just relax."

He shrugged and resumed his conversation with Quinn while I sat at the piano and tried to determine a time limit for admitting defeat. If she didn't show up in (five ten fifteen twenty minutes) I was going to have to just accept she wasn't coming and deal with it, but… God, I'd wanted to see her, and I'd never been stood up before, and inside I was so crestfallen it was embarrassing. But I shouldn't have been surprised, and that was the worst part.

Just as I was finally ready to accept the obvious, the door to the choir room opened. Everyone immediately turned their heads to stare at the new arrival, and I was as eager as any of them. She stood in the doorway, as beautiful and vibrant as I remembered in a clinging green sweater, tight knee-length skirt and grey cap, and I couldn't help the huge smile developing on my face. Her expression echoed mine, and I could feel my heartbeat accelerate just knowing she was finally here, just knowing she was as happy to see me as I was to see her.

"Hey," she began, waving to the room in general, and her voice was low and sweet, just the way I'd remembered. "Sorry I'm late, I got a little lost."

"It's fine," I assured her, standing and going to meet her because she just… She drew me, I couldn't help it, I had to go to her, and I felt just… I mean, there was a strong pull of desire, and I wanted her, absolutely, but there was something else, something harder to define. The best I can say is that the sight of her made me feel like nothing could ever go wrong in a world that had her in it, and yes I know how ridiculous that sounds but it's true. "I'm just glad you made it. I think you're really going to enjoy this."

She nodded, the curve of her mouth widening. "I'm sure I am."

I turned to present her to the class. "Okay guys, this is my friend, Ms.-" And I froze when I realized I had no idea how to complete that sentence. I was just like that song we had performed with April a few months back; I didn't even know her last name.

Luckily, she was quick and interrupted me before I could really choke. "Honor. Just Honor, I'm not your teacher or anything."

Santana raised her hand, more to draw the class's attention than because she planned to wait for me to call on her. I didn't, and she spoke anyway, as usual. "Okay, what kind of name is Honor, anyway?"

Puck snickered. "Like you're one to talk, _Santana_."

"Isn't that one of the seven deadly sins?" a confused voice inquired from the back.

"Uh, no, Brittany, you're thinking of… Something else," I responded, not entirely certain which she was mistaking Honor's name for. I was rather preoccupied with lust, myself, because while I didn't _only_ desire her, it was definitely a part of my feelings for her. She was here, she was here, she was so close, and I just wanted to put my hands on her. Of course I couldn't, but oh how I wished the choir room was empty, that rehearsal was already over, that I could slide my hands up her skirt, position her on the piano in front of me and caress her everywhere, tease her with my fingers and my tongue and-

"Excuse me," Kurt began, distracting me before things got out of hand and reminding me that I had a responsibility to my kids to pay attention, to guide them, and not get lost in graphic fantasies. "But are those Christian Louboutin Bourge boots, and how did you get them? They're from the Spring 2010 collection, I don't even think you can order them yet."

Honor looked confused. "I don't think so," she responded, laughing. "I got them at, um, Macy's."

"But they have the distinctive red sole," he argued.

"Oh. Well, uh…" She seemed at a loss for words, and I was happy to come both back to reality and to her rescue.

"Kurt, come on, you can interrogate her about her boots later," I told him, and if my voice was a little husky no one seemed to notice. "Why don't you get into your places and we'll show Honor what we've been working on? Come on guys, let's do this."

They moved into formation with Rachel directing them, and I turned to Honor, smiling apologetically. "It would be better if we could do it on stage, but we didn't reserve it ahead of time so…" We were so close now, close enough that I could smell her shampoo and perfume and something else, something indefinable but deeply seductive, and it reminded me somehow of being inside her. _No. No. Focus._

"Oh, don't worry about it, this is great," she told me, and she sounded like she meant it, and I just stared at the warm smile gracing her lips and fought against the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless, drag her to the floor and strip her naked, hold her down against the linoleum and… _Seriously! Focus!_

"Great," I repeated, because I had to say something and was having trouble thinking of what. With effort, I turned away from her and nodded at the kids to let them know they could begin.

The song they'd chosen was an R&B number by Jay Sean called _Down_, and I'd been ambivalent about the selection; it wasn't unsuitable, exactly, I just couldn't imagine what kind of twist they could put on it. Apparently, they'd divided it into parts just as I'd asked, with everyone except Mike taking at least a small solo, and it sounded… Good. Really good, good enough to take to Regionals, good enough to distract me from most of my inappropriate thoughts. It was humbling to realize that they had accomplished all of this in less than two hours and with no help from me, and I was just so proud, so impressed. I turned to examine Honor's reaction and found myself entranced by the smile on her face for reasons that had nothing to do with lust. She looked as impressed as I was, or perhaps even more so, especially when Rachel and Puck teamed up for the chorus with the rest of the kids handling backup (Puck sang his sappy lyrics directly to Honor, casting her a smoldering glance I did not approve of, and when she laughed in response I realized that oh my god I was actually jealous of a student).

Seeing her admiration for the kids made me feel at least as good as seeing her standing in the choir room doorway when I'd completely given up hope had. This was partially for selfish reasons; they were my kids, I was their teacher, and in a way her admiration for them translated into admiration for me. As I had before when she'd been so genuinely interested in my occupation, I felt somehow justified by her obvious delight with my students, and I felt proud, both of them and of myself. But more than that, I felt relief. I wanted her to be something to me, though I wasn't sure what, and if she'd been scornful or in any way condescending to the kids that would have been impossible. The fact that she hadn't been, the fact that she seemed almost moved by their performance, moved me.

She turned to me, and her face was shining and she was so beautiful and I wanted her so desperately I couldn't breathe, but not just because I _wanted_ her, whatever that meant. All I knew was this feeling went far beyond the friendship I'd once offered her and was far more complicated than simple physical attraction, and honestly it didn't feel like infatuation, either. It was a combination of the warmth I felt in Emma's presence and the heat I'd felt the first time I saw Honor, and it was both electrifying and terrifying. I've experienced love at first sight, so I'm aware that it isn't necessary to know someone to love them, genuinely love them. And this didn't feel like love at first sight but it felt… Related to. Which was frightening, but not as frightening as the fact that I wasn't nearly as afraid as I should have been.

**TBC**

_Are you guys ready for Lucky 13 or what?_


	13. x The Trigger

_For_ jilly74, Sierra-Jae, Valentinas, PlainJane1, Wemmamazing _and_ xJuBee. _God I hope this chapter isn't a major letdown! If it is, it's my fault, certainly not _**traceit**_'s, because she's amazing and all her analysis is always spot on. Everything good about this chapter was her idea._

Please skip this chapter if you're too young to read, or offended by, **graphic adult content**.

**13**

I dismissed the kids early. They'd earned it, really, after all their hard work, and honestly I was too distracted by Honor's presence and the thoughts her presence caused to actually be useful. She smiled at and complimented each of them as they filed out, all of her praise so genuine that even Santana seemed the tiniest bit charmed. Puck, of course, attempted to strike up a conversation with her, leering all the while, but I cleared my throat loudly and glared, and he definitely got the message. He shrugged, as if to say _Can't blame a guy for trying_ (and no, I really couldn't), and made sure to brush by me, murmuring "Now _that_ is a chick worth holding rehearsal for! Nicely done, Mr. Schue!" on his way out the door.

Then we were alone together, which was exactly what I'd wanted, but suddenly I felt that something was… Off. She seemed withdrawn and quiet as she sat at the piano, focusing intently on the keys in front of her as though she were trying to avoid looking anywhere else, or just at me specifically. I was confused. Apparently I'd done something wrong between the time she'd arrived at rehearsal and now, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what. Hesitantly, I approached and seated myself next to her on the bench, pressed close enough that our thighs were touching, and I found that contact electrifying, exhilarating, found myself as drawn to her now as ever. But she didn't look at me at all, nor did she relax against me as I'd hoped; instead, her posture remained concert-hall perfect, and I had the feeling she would have scooted away from me if there had been room, which thankfully there wasn't.

The fact that she was only near me because there was nowhere else for her to go didn't exactly inspire confidence, however. I directed my gaze to her hands as they glided across the keys, sure and fluid, and though I was rather distracted with going through the last hour in my head, trying to pinpoint what had gone wrong, I couldn't help but notice that she was clearly a trained pianist. This was confirmed as her seemingly random playing morphed suddenly into what was obviously a constructed piece of music, albeit one I didn't recognize. It was beautiful, and without thinking I reached out to touch her hand, savoring the feel of her bare skin beneath mine.

"That's really nice," I murmured, both because it was true and because surely if I engaged her in conversation she'd have to look at me. "What is it? I didn't know you played."

She jerked her hand out from under mine as though I had burned her and hid it in her lap even as she shifted enough that our thighs were no longer touching. It was clear she didn't want to be anywhere near me, and the realization hurt me more than I'd have expected. But mainly I was just utterly perplexed. Everything had been going so well…

"It's nothing, really," she responded after a moment, voice flat and dull. "Just something I made up,"

If I hadn't been so preoccupied with the fact that she was suddenly so uneasy with me, I would probably have been impressed by that. "Oh. Well, it was nice," I said lamely, trying to think of some other topic to keep her talking because I just knew that if we fell silent for long enough she'd be out the door before I could stop her and I just did not understand it at all. "I could play you something if you want. Or we could play something together if there's anything you know."

She shook her head, still avoided looking at me. "Really, I don't know anything. I haven't had lessons since I was seven."

I was at a complete loss. Whatever I'd done wrong, she didn't seem inclined to enlighten me about it, and since I didn't know what it was I couldn't apologize for it. There was only one thing I could think of to do, one thing that might get some kind of reaction out of her.

"Okay, I'll play this, then…" I told her, smiling on the off-chance she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye, as I began to play _Summerview_. It was my lucky charm, after all, but more than that, I knew the song affected her as deeply as it affected me, which made it a kind of shared bond between us, something that might have the power to break through the walls she'd erected so unexpectedly.

Her reaction wasn't exactly what I'd been hoping for. She shot to her feet and moved towards the door as my disappointment and confusion intensified.

"Thanks so much for inviting me, Will," she began, and the way she said my name was… It's hard to explain, but she didn't say it like she was addressing me. She made it sound as though it was completely generic and not _my_ name, and I don't think I'm explaining this right. There was no familiarity as she said it, nothing to indicate that anyone with that name had ever been anything to her at all, and I couldn't help but wonder if I ever had been, or if I'd been making everything up inside my head.

"I had an awesome time, the kids were amazing," she continued. "I think I'm going to go. It was nice to meet you, nice to see you again." And that sounded like goodbye if anything ever had. Her entire tone screamed it, so distant and cold, and… I don't know how many times I can say that I was confused, but I really really was.

I finished playing the chorus and tried to figure out what to do. She was obviously anxious to get away from me, and as much as that bewildered and upset me I wasn't the type to keep someone in a situation they were clearly uncomfortable with. If she didn't want to tell me what I'd done wrong, if she wanted to leave, my only possible course of action was to escort her to the parking lot and say goodbye, no matter how much I didn't want to. Defeated, I stood and closed the piano, then grabbed my messenger bag.

"I'll walk you," I told her, pleased that my voice didn't sound as injured as I felt. "The school's empty by now and all the doors will be locked, you'll need my key to get out."

"Thanks," she responded as I locked the choir room, and I guided her down the hall, allowing her to follow me at whatever distance she felt most comfortable with.

"I think the kids really liked you," I stated after an awkward moment. This was true, but mostly I was talking just to fill the silence, just to stop myself from dwelling on how badly I'd misread her. It made me feel so stupid, knowing that the entire time I'd been trying to figure out my feelings for her, she'd been dying to get away from me. "They don't always warm up to people right away."

"I thought they were great," She responded, and again I could hear the sincerity in her tone, and it just increased my puzzlement. "Not just their performance, but the kids themselves. They all really look up to you, you know?"

"I don't know about _that_." I couldn't help laughing a little even as I wondered why she would bother complimenting me when it was obvious she couldn't wait to be out of my presence. "You've never seen Rachel storm out of practice after accusing me of trying to ruin her career. She does it at least once a week."

"And are you?" she asked, and something about the way she said it told me she was smiling, and I didn't get it. I didn't get it at all.

"Am I what?"

"Trying to ruin her career?" she teased.

"No," I answered. "Just trying to teach her that the whole world doesn't revolve around her and her talent. I'm not crazy, I know she's amazing, I know she'll be a sensation someday. And then maybe the world _will_ revolve around her. But not now. She needs to just be a kid, you know?"

She was quiet for a long moment before she spoke again, no sign of humor in her tone. "But honestly, Will. You do something special for these kids, you give them something and… That's important. It is."

I smiled because I couldn't help it, because this was what I'd always wanted to hear from someone, anyone, but again I couldn't fathom why she'd want so desperately to be rid of me yet still think highly enough of me to say something so touching. "Thanks."

As we passed my office, I remembered something and paused, taking my keys from my pocket. "Sorry, this will only take a second," I explained when she looked at me questioningly. "I forgot a folder of papers to grade."

"It's no problem." She followed me inside and immediately moved all the way across the room from the filing cabinet I was searching through, still eager to escape me. I ignored that depressing fact and flipped through the hanging folders until I found what I was looking for, right where it was meant to be.

"All done," I said, turning to her, surprised to see she was actually sitting on the edge of my desk. Her feet didn't quite touch the ground, and I reached out to help her down, and I'm not quite sure what happened next, because it all happened too quickly to really analyze. She took my hand, and I could feel the warmth of her touch seep into my palm and spread throughout my entire body, and then suddenly without even deciding to I was standing right in front of her and pressing my lips softly to hers as though if I were just gentle enough she'd stop trying to get away.

There was something very right about kissing her, something like a final puzzle piece falling into place, and I couldn't help but think that if this was our last kiss I'd regret it because it felt like it should have been our first. She would end it soon, I knew, but I also knew that while I was willing to be completely undemanding with this, I would not be the first to pull away. Could not be.

I'm not certain how long we stayed this way, our mouths barely touching, but at some point her grasp on my hands tightened and she tugged me closer until I was standing between her legs. It was almost disorienting, because it was the opposite of what I'd expected, but as she dropped my hands and wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her fingers in my hair, I decided not to question it. Instead, I pressed myself against her, allowing myself to relax into the warmth of her curves as the light caress of her hands against my neck sent shivers through my body. She could change her mind any second now, and if this was all I could have of her, I wanted it.

Carefully, I cradled her face, keeping my touch light because I needed her to feel that I wouldn't hold her if she didn't want me to, needed her to know that she could pull away. Her lips parted in a sigh, and I ran my tongue along the soft flesh just inside even though I wasn't sure she'd allow it. But then her tongue touched mine, and I felt a surge of relief mingled with desire because it symbolized a kind of acceptance, an agreement to allow me to stay close to her as long as I didn't make any unreasonable demands, and of course I was willing to be reasonable, to touch her only the way she wanted to be touched.

I released her face and moved my hands up, removing her hat and allowing her heavy dark hair to fall in waves to her shoulders. My fingers followed, threading through the silky strands and brushing softly against her throat, tracing the outline of her collarbone. She sighed quietly, with pleasure I think, and I lifted my mouth from hers to taste those same spots, skimming so lightly over her smooth skin I wasn't even certain she could feel it, though I could feel her pulse beating faintly under my lips. Of their own volition my hands traveled to her breasts, and I allowed myself to cup them gently, loving the feel of them against my palms, full and warm, her nipples hard even through the layers of her bra and sweater. Her breathing was coming faster now, as was mine, but I kept all my movements slow and deliberate, all my caresses barely more than whispers despite every neuron in my brain screaming that I should crush her to me. It's hard to explain why I resisted that instinct; I loved the way she was reacting to even my slightest touch, loved knowing that I affected her even when my hands were barely on her, loved knowing that she knew she could easily pull away at any moment, loved knowing she chose not to, and I could feel myself growing hard at the thought.

Without consciously deciding to, I moved my hands to her knees, felt the muscles in her thighs jump at my touch. She made a sound that I couldn't quite define, but I decided to quiet her with my mouth just in case she meant to object. Not that I wanted to coerce her or force her into anything, but if she was thinking of putting a stop to this it was possible my lips on hers could convince her otherwise, or so I hoped. This kiss wasn't quite as undemanding as the last, though it wasn't demanding, either, just gently suggesting that maybe she didn't want to pull away after all, and she kissed me back the same, slow and deliberate, as though she would be perfectly content to stay that way forever, and I thought maybe I would be, too. I fitted one palm to the indentation of her waist, supporting her against me, even as I unhurriedly trailed my fingers along the curve of her knee to disappear under the hem of her skirt. I stroked gently, feather-light, but I knew she could feel every touch because she made quiet little sounds in the back of her throat and she was trembling ever so slightly under my hands.

I reached the apex of her thighs, ghosted my fingers over the silk separating me from her bare flesh, hesitated because I wasn't certain how far she wanted me to go, but she groaned against my mouth and shifted to give me better access. In that moment I couldn't help but remember that we were technically in public, that I was doing this to her in my glass-walled office, that anyone could theoretically walk by and see her sitting on my desk, spreading her legs for me, and I've never really considered myself an exhibitionist, or even especially adventurous, but the thought that we might get caught made me even harder. Ignoring the discomfort of my aching cock trapped inside the constriction of my slacks, I teased her through the damp fabric of her panties, and she gasped, arching up against me. Her reaction encouraged me to increase the firmness of my touch enough to possibly do her some good, and she shuddered, moaning against my mouth.

That sound is what broke me, because torturing her was just as torturous for me, and I wanted to feel her, needed to feel her, and couldn't make myself wait any longer. I slipped one finger under the edge of the fabric, pushing it aside, and gasped nearly as loudly as she did when I finally came into contact with her naked flesh. She was so wet, the complicated folds of her sex slick with desire, and I knew that meant she was ready but could hardly comprehend that she was so ready for _me_, that she wanted _me_. Delicately, I opened her, barely caressing her, but she writhed under my hand, just as responsive as if I'd been pressing hard against her. When I finally found her entrance, I slid one finger deep inside, slow, deliberate, feeling her hot and tight around me, so tight it was almost impossible to believe she'd ever been able to accommodate me, and she cried out sharply. From the harsh tone of her voice and her ragged breathing I knew she was close despite the fact that I'd hardly touched her, and I felt something like triumph that I could make her react like this.

Carefully, I added another finger, pushing forward against her body's resistance, relishing the feel of her stretching and accepting the intrusion as I moved deeper and stroked inside, searching for the trigger that would make her fall apart. A very shocked intake of breath let me know when I discovered it, and I continued to rub her there, feeling her tightening with every slight movement. She was close, so close, and I could hardly wait to feel her coming around me, and I removed my mouth from hers because I wanted to watch her face, wanted to see her when it happened. Her normally clear gray eyes were dazed in a very flattering way, her fair skin flushed, her lips slightly swollen from the gentle pressure of mine, and again I felt a surge of triumph I couldn't quite control.

"Will you come for me like this?" I asked, and I was surprised by the words because I swear I hadn't meant to say them, but it had felt good and the aroused expression on her face clearly told me she wanted to hear more. Lacking experience, I had no idea what to say, so I just went with the truth. "It's all I could think of during rehearsal," I told her, voice low and rough. "Sinking my fingers into your wet cunt, watching your face while you came."

"God, Will," she gasped, and her voice was as low and rough as mine. "Do you teach your kids with that mouth?" I rubbed her a little more firmly instead of answering, making her gasp again. "Oh, _god_."

I smiled tenderly at her, loving the sounds she made, loving the way she looked at me. "I'll teach _you_," I murmured. Then I brushed my thumb deliberately over her clit, no pressure, no prolonged contact, just the lightest whisper of a touch, and I could see the moment ecstasy crashed down on her as her eyes widened and her lips parted in a silent cry, could feel it as she spasmed and trembled around my fingers. And this was the moment I'd wanted, this moment of vulnerability when she had no defenses against me, and her face was stark and open, pleasure and pain both clearly visible there, her eyes deeper than I'd thought possible, fathomless and full of emotions I couldn't quite define. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, the expression on her face as she came for me, so utterly exposed, and I stared, enraptured and enthralled.

She tugged desperately at me, pulling me forward, and I tangled my fingers in her hair, holding her still as I pressed my tongue deep inside her mouth. I was still painfully hard, and every primitive instinct I possessed was urging me to bury myself inside her, but this hadn't been about me and if she didn't want that I wouldn't, of course I wouldn't, even if it killed me. Which honestly I think it might have, but she had mercy on me, thank god. Dropping her hands to my waistband, she unbuttoned and unzipped my slacks in record time, and I couldn't help moaning brokenly against her lips when I felt her small soft hands wrap around my cock. Her fingers slid up and down my length with just enough pressure to make me completely incoherent with desire, and I thought that if she just rubbed her palm across the head I'd really embarrass myself by coming all over her hands, and then I thought that maybe I didn't care.

Before I could really understand what was happening, she'd lifted her hips, locked her legs around my waist and pulled me close, almost as close as I wanted to be, not quite close enough. I slid into her in a single decisive stroke, and the feel of her enveloping me was indescribable, can't be conveyed with a few strings of nouns and adjectives. To say that she was tight and hot and wet and perfect, all of that is accurate, but there's no way to explain how it felt when her body yielded to mine and surrounded me as she took me inside of her, because it's just… Physically it felt amazing, better than anything, the tilt of her hips and the position of her legs allowing me deeper than ever before, and I had to clench my fists hard in her hair to maintain any kind of composure, to avoid finishing with that one thrust, because the pleasure was so intense. But not all of the experience was physical because, I mean… God, it's hard to find the words. I was inside her, _inside_ her, because she wanted it, because she allowed it, and I don't care how ridiculous this sounds but I've always felt that sex is special, that it's sacred, and I know not everyone shares this view but that's how it is for me. In the heat of the moment, it was easy to believe that that's how it was for her, too, that granting me access to her body was a gift, one I knew I didn't deserve but was grateful for.

So I gave myself to her too, pushing myself deeper and deeper as our tongues met and tangled and she held me so close, her arms wrapped around my neck and her slim, strong legs wrapped around my waist as though I could somehow be closer. And I wish I could say that I'd done something very impressive to coax her into another orgasm, but I didn't, couldn't, because I was completely incapable of thought of any kind at this point, but part of what made it feel so good was knowing she didn't care. She'd offered herself to me for the simple reason that she wanted to give me pleasure, the same reason I'd spent over an hour of rehearsal imagining what it would feel like to make her come around my fingers. I pounded into her, gasping with every flex of my hips, and after a very few minutes I was coming, filling her, trying to force my lips to form her name and failing miserably. But from the way she kissed me, the way she smiled against my mouth when she felt me pulsing inside of her, I knew she didn't care about that either.

**TBC**

_Any feedback is greatly appreciated, especially from first time reviewers/people who have never read _**AM21 **_(though of course I love my faithful repeat reviewers, you guys make my life worth living, which is kind of sad now that I think about it but hey)._


	14. Responsibility

First of all, I just want to apologize for disappearing on you guys! I managed to leave my laptop charger in class a few days ago, so I couldn't turn my computer on! But I've taken care of it and should be back on the same daily schedule now :)

_For _Sierra-Jae, jilly74, Wemmamazing, Valentinas, PlainJane1, Fidgetym, Dexna20xXemnas1_ and _christierrr_. Thank you so much for your support, and for letting me know I didn't let you down! Because I worry about that, you know. And of course for _**traceit**_, who thinks this chapter isn't boring so I'm going to believe her._

**14**

An hour later we sat together in her living room, eating Chinese takeout straight out of the cartons with chopsticks. I was still somewhat dazed by everything that had transpired earlier. Whatever distance there had been between us before we'd made love (and yes, that's how I'm going to refer to it, wanna fight about it?) in my office had completely disappeared, whatever I'd done to upset her had been completely forgotten, and the concept of personal space didn't seem to exist for us anymore. We were so close, our arms touching, elbows bumping occasionally as we ate, and it felt good, so good to be near her. She was glowing, almost literally incandescent, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, smile so bright, and she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, but I couldn't turn away, could only stare at her amazed and think _I'm responsible for that_. And then of course I'd remember all the details of that responsibility. I couldn't stop thinking about the look on her face when she came, her gaze fixed on mine, emotions I had no name for in their depths, and the way she cried out, the way she said my name, the way I'd tangled my hands in her hair and she'd wrapped her legs around me and... Oh god, she was looking at me expectantly and I realized she'd just asked me a question, one I hadn't heard at all because I'd been too distracted by the memory of how it felt to bury myself inside her.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, blushing.

She gave me a quizzical look. "I was just asking if you wanted a spring roll," she said, holding the carton out to me. I eyed the food inside skeptically, and the sight that met my gaze was perfectly calculated to kill my lust; spring rolls were apparently similar to egg rolls, except the filling was wrapped in a translucent slimy skin, so really they were more reminiscent of alien cocoons than anything else, and part of me thought I ought to try to eat one before something terrifying emerged. Or maybe not.

I shook my head. "I'm good, thanks."

"You're not afraid of a few vegetables, are you?" she teased, and she was so gorgeous when she smiled like that, not with just her mouth but with her eyes and her whole face. "Come on, just try a bite… You liked the tofu, remember?"

"I never said that," I protested. "I said that if I was starving to death and had to choose between tofu and cannibalism, I'd probably choose tofu." Actually, the tofu had been delicious, which was surprising to me as I'd never tried it before. Any time she turned away for any reason, I snagged some without telling her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

"Details, details." She reached into the carton and withdrew a spring roll, held it out to me. "Come on, just one bite."

I looked at the thing, then back at her. "Honor, please."

"Will, please," she mimicked, and she was smiling again, and oh god the way she said my name, and of course I was powerless against her.

With a sigh, I opened my mouth. She held it up for me and I took a bite of the end, chewing quickly. It… Wasn't bad, actually, though the slimy wrapping was fairly disgusting. "There, happy?" I asked.

She considered for a moment, her expression genuinely confused before she responded "Yes, actually," and I got the feeling she wasn't really talking about the fact that I'd eaten the alien cocoon. "Yes, I am." And then she grinned at me and popped the other half of the spring roll into her mouth.

Echoing her grin- because really, I couldn't help it- I surveyed the destruction we'd wreaked upon the various takeout boxes that completely covered her coffee table. Mine, which had once held lemon chicken, kung pao beef, egg fried rice and potstickers, were completely empty, while she'd barely managed to make a dent in her tofu, brown rice and spring rolls. "So are you just not hungry, or did you realize you forgot to order people food?"

"This is people food!" she exclaimed in (mock, I think) outrage. "I'm a person and I ate it, therefore…"

"If you say so," I responded dubiously.

"Hey, all of this-" she gestured to herself, arching her back to better display her body, tossing her hair and pouting- "does not happen accidentally. I wish I knew your secret, by the way."

My expression morphed from amusement to confusion. "What secret?"

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "I've seen your body… I could literally grate cheese on your abs, if I ever let myself eat cheese, but based on the way you inhaled all of this I can't quite figure out how you manage it."

The image her comment brought to mind was hilarious, but I was also very pleased by the compliment. "I just have a really high metabolism," I fibbed. I mean, I do have a really high metabolism, but I also run or bike five days a week and do at least 150 crunches and 150 pushups each night before bed.

She, being unaware of this, glared. "I hate you."

I smiled and shook my head. "No you don't."

"I'm pretty sure I do," she countered as I rested my forehead against hers and cupped her cheek in my hand.

"No you don't," I repeated, pressing my lips lightly to hers.

"You're okay," she conceded when I pulled away, and the warmth on her face mirrored the warmth I felt, a kind of happiness I couldn't quite define at the casual way she leaned into me, at the fact that she still wanted to be close to me, because I wanted to be close to her for reasons that weren't only physical. Just being near her made me feel relaxed and happy in a way I hadn't been in years, not with Terri, not with Emma, not with anyone. And again, it didn't feel like infatuation, or at least not like infatuation the way I remembered it, and I was beginning to think I knew what it did feel like, and my suspicions didn't scare me at all, or at least not the way they should have. I didn't want to think about it too much yet, however, didn't want to overanalyze anything, just wanted to enjoy my time with her and worry about everything else later.

After a few moments of staring at her like an idiot, I turned back to our takeout boxes, repackaged the leftovers and took them into the kitchen almost automatically. It was just a normal, mundane kind of chore, just the way eating takeout like this was a normal, mundane kind of evening, but she beamed at me as though no one had ever taken care of anything for her before. And now that I thought about it, nothing about this evening had been normal or mundane, and not just because of what had happened earlier in my office. The way she lit up lit me up too, and it made doing anything with her or for her enjoyable.

"Your fridge is abnormally clean," I informed her as I ambled back into the living room. "Also, there wasn't anything in it."

"I know," she answered dryly. "I eat out a lot."

"Okay." That seemed strange to me, but who was I to judge?

"Altoid?" she asked, holding out a tin to me. "They're cinnamon."

"Sure." I took two and sucked on them, enjoying their spiciness as I sat down next to her, and she immediately curled into me, turning sideways and draping her legs across my lap, and I wrapped one arm around her waist, laid my free hand gently on her thighs.

"Thanks for putting all that away," she began, running her fingers idly through my hair, sending little shivers down my spine. "And for dinner. It was delicious."

"Anytime," I answered, and if I'd still been doing the ungentlemanly thing, running comparisons in my mind, I might have reflected that it had been years since Terri had thanked me for doing anything so minor, if she ever had, or that the very thought of eating out of the same takeout box as someone else would have caused Emma to hyperventilate, but honestly I was done with comparisons. There was no point, really, because I'd decided I wasn't going to analyze anything anymore.

"What were you like in high school?" she asked out of the blue, and I felt a little twinge of delight at the thought that she wanted to know more about me.

"Um," I began, trying to remember the kid I had been, realizing that I wasn't so different now, inside anyway. "Popular, I guess. I was dating the head cheerleader, and I was kind of a big deal in glee, which was kind of a big deal back then…"

She smiled. "I could see that. Let me guess, you were Homecoming King, right?"

"No," I denied as though insulted. "Prom King, much more impressive."

"Oh, of course, forgive me." Her tone was sarcastic, but in a light way.

"What about you?" Really, it was only fair that I return the question.

She got a faraway look on her face for a moment, then shrugged. "Quiet. _Un_popular. Very unpopular, actually, but I tell myself it's because I wanted to be."

"That doesn't seem like it fits," I murmured, thoughtfully. "You're very charming."

"When I want to be," she agreed, sounding amused. "And when I don't, I assure you I am not."

"Why didn't you want to be popular?" That fact confused me, I guess because I'd always been popular, in high school, in college… At work, to an extent, minus Sue of course. Her antipathy towards me had really driven home the lesson that I kept trying to teach Rachel, that life is so much easier when people like you.

She was quiet for a long time, so long I thought she wasn't going to respond. "It's hard to explain," she said finally. "I'm very… I've always been very… Self-contained, I guess. I had a few friends, one or two very close ones, and that was all I needed."

"That sounds lonely," I murmured, and she looked surprised.

"It wasn't," she assured me, smiling. "Not at all."

I wasn't sure I believed that. "What about your family?"

The smile on her face disappeared, but more than that, something about her expression closed, slammed shut. "I had one. I wasn't unhappy." Which wasn't the same thing as being happy, I noted to myself. "What about you? I suspect you had a wildly happy childhood." And her smile was back, and it seemed genuine, as she contemplated my upbringing.

Clearly, she did not wish to discuss hers. "Oh yeah." My enthusiasm was unfeigned, but at the same time I felt a hint of sadness, just knowing she couldn't be as enthusiastic about her family as I could be about mine. "The happiest. My parents are great, really dedicated, and just very cool. I mean, my dad is 65 and he's just started going to law school because he always wanted to. He's very inspiring." My mom's drunken makeout session with Josh Groban had been… Less inspiring, but I decided not to mention that.

"That's really amazing," she said, and I didn't think I was imagining the wistfulness in her tone. I was considering asking her another question about her family, despite her obvious reluctance to discuss it, when she continued on. "What kind of music did you grow up listening to?"

"Oh, it was war in my house," I told her, deadly serious. "My mom is a die-hard Beatles fan… My dad loves the Stones. I'm honestly surprised they've been able to overcome that difference and remain married as long as they have."

She laughed, a light, happy sound that lifted me up until I was lighter and happier too, and I tightened my grip on her waist, holding her a little closer just because I wanted to, just because I could. "And did you betray your mother or your father?"

"I was a grave disappointment to both, actually," I responded, hanging my head guiltily. "I somehow got my hands on an Air Supply tape when I was five years old…"

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. "Oh god, Will, please don't tell me…"

"I'm afraid so. I'm an Air Supply fan. Any easy listening actually," I confessed, my face burning. "Oh, and show tunes."

"Stop, stop," she begged, covering her ears. "I can't take it, no more!"

"Well I like good music, too," I defended. "The Beatles and the Stones, and Brian Wilson and Queen and… You know, really good music. Norah Castle. But Air Supply will always be my first love."

"At least you seem ashamed of it," she muttered. "But I'm really questioning everything about you now."

I rolled my eyes at her. "And I suppose you grew up listening to the best music ever recorded?"

She shook her head, smiling enigmatically. "I didn't grow up listening to anything at all, really. But I always loved music."

"You had piano lessons at least," I reminded her, remembering back to the choir room, the way her slender fingers had danced over the keys.

"Until I was seven," she confirmed.

"And then…?" I prompted.

"And then…" she hesitated. "Nothing. I got bored, quit. But I still love good music. The Beatles and the Stones and Brian Wilson and Queen. And _not_ Air Supply," she added, giving me a significant look.

"What about Norah Castle?" I inquired, noting the omission.

Another hesitation. "I don't listen to her much."

"Which is weird, because you look so much like her," I pointed out.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I get that a lot."

"You're much prettier though," I hastened to assure her.

"You're delusional," she informed me, leaning in and kissing my cheek. I turned my face and captured her lips with mine for a brief moment. "Cute though," she concluded when I lifted my head.

I gave her my most charming look. "It's a gift." Suddenly, something in the corner caught my eye, an acoustic guitar, which seemed weird considering she hadn't mentioned she could play even though we'd discussed her piano lessons. "Is that acoustic yours?"

"What?" She looked startled, then followed my gaze to the corner. "Oh, yeah. I've been trying to teach myself how to play."

"And how is that going?" I was curious because I'd taught myself to play guitar, too, many years ago, and it hadn't been especially difficult for me. I'd always been musical, I guess.

"Oh, you know." She shrugged, and that was clearly all she intended to say about the matter.

"Can I play it?" I asked, itching to get my hands on it almost as much as I wanted to keep my hands on her.

She nodded. "If you'll sing something."

I grinned, excited by the idea of performing for her the same way I'd been excited to have her see me teach. Music was something I was good at, something I loved, and I wanted to show her that, wanted her to see that I was talented… Because I am, at least a little. Disentangling myself from her, I walked over and took hold of her guitar gently, ran my fingers over the strings to get a feel for their weight.

"Perfectly in tune…" I noted, playing a few chords. "Beautiful tone, wow. What kind of guitar is this?" Each note rang like a bell inside of it, and somehow it was warm and sweet and reminded me of her voice.

"Oh, it's a Gibson," she answered casually. "Not sure what exactly, I got it a long time ago."

"It sounds amazing." It really, really did. I'd never seen a guitar like it, now that I thought of it, the body deeper than most acoustics I'd come into contact with. Interesting.

"Thanks," she said, then beckoned to me. "But stop trying to distract me. If you're going to play that guitar, you have to _play_ it."

I smiled and returned to her side, facing her with the guitar in my lap. She looked happy and eager, just the way I felt. "Is there anything you want to hear?"

She shook her head. "Hmmm… Surprise me."

Raising my eyebrows at her in a _You're no help_ kind of way, I considered my options. I'd already played _Summerview_, and I didn't really want to remind her of that since she'd reacted by attempting to leave the choir room immediately. So what then? "Okay, I've got it. I'll even sing, too."

"It's a requirement," she reminded me.

After a moment's thought, I began my own rendition of _Down_, the song the kids had chosen and performed earlier. I didn't know the exact chords but had a good feel for the melody and a good ear for improvisation, so it sounded halfway decent.

"_You oughta know/Tonight is the night to let it go/Put on a show/I wanna see how you lose control…_" I gave her a lingering look, remembering watching her lose control, and she blushed.

"Those lyrics are ridiculous, you know." She was still red, and it was adorable.

"Yes," I answered, still playing, glaring sternly. "But I'm supposed to be singing right now, stop talking. You made me miss the last half of the verse."

"Sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all, which was fine because I didn't mind.

"_So baby don't worry/You are my only/You won't be lonely/Even if the sky is falling down/You'll be my only/No need to worry/Baby are you down down down down down?_" Maybe it was a sappy song, no, it definitely was, but there was something about it that I liked, that promise hidden within it: _You won't be lonely_. I got the feeling she had been when she was younger, maybe still was, and I wondered if she even knew it. I finished the chorus and didn't continue with the next verse, suddenly feeling the need to pull her close.

I didn't have to. She leaned into me, met my eyes with hers, and there was something burning in their depths, something almost fierce. "You're incredible, Will, really," she murmured, touching my cheek. "You could be on Broadway; you could be on the radio. You have a real gift."

My face grew warm at her praise. She just sounded so impressed, so sincere, and I wasn't used to that kind of reaction. I mean, I know I'm talented, maybe slightly more talented than average. And Emma had once told me I was a good performer. But somehow it sounded different coming from Honor, felt different. "Thanks. I used to think… I mean, in high school I really wanted to try to do something like that but…" I stammered, uncertain of how to explain what had happened to distract me from my dream. I didn't want it to sound like I was blaming Terri, but… Well, I was blaming Terri. "I don't know, Terri thought econ was a better bet so…" I shrugged.

She seemed almost angry at the thought, her fists clenched, knuckles white. "Do you regret it?"

For a moment, I imagined what my life might have been like if I'd ignored Terri's insistence that I do something practical, or if I'd never met Terri altogether. I imagined myself in New York, a little talent, a little luck, a small role or two, some singing, some dancing… Then maybe bigger roles, a truly lucky break, a Tony nomination, people standing and cheering for me… It was a seductive fantasy, but nothing more than that. Not enough to make me wish I could do it all over again. "No," I responded, completely certain. "I mean, I do regret not taking my chance, but I'm glad I ended up doing what I'm doing. Teaching is just…" I struggled to put my feelings into words. "Everything to me. I'd miss it, even if I didn't know what I was missing."

Something flickered in her eyes, something I couldn't name- she seemed to feel so many things I couldn't identify, whether because I'd never felt them before or because I'd never seen them in anyone else- and for a brief moment, as she took her guitar from my hands and set it gently aside, her expression was so tender. And then she was kissing me, her mouth moving softly on mine, slightly parted, and I parted mine too, and then we were tasting each other, and we stayed that way for a long time. It felt different, somehow, different than every other time our lips had met, and I couldn't quite figure out why but I thought it might be because it wasn't a prelude to anything. She was an amazing kisser- with a mouth like hers, so full and pouting, she'd have to really be working hard at it to not be- and what we were doing together affected me as it always had, my heart beat racing and blood humming with desire, but I didn't feel the need to pull her into my lap, slide my hands up her skirt, hold her hips steady to allow her to sink down on me and okay maybe someday soon we'd have to try that. But for now I was perfectly content to kiss her, to keep kissing her, to feel her lips trembling beneath mine and just hold her. That fact more than anything else made me realize that I had to have more time to understand what I was feeling, confirm my suspicions and figure out what to do about them, couldn't let tonight be goodbye, and my god I had really screwed up my only one-night stand because I was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"Is this against the rules?" I asked when I was finally able to force myself to lift my head, pulling back just far enough that I could see her face. Her expression was soft and dazed and open, eyes unfocused, and she blinked a few times before I really felt that she was seeing me.

"You have no idea," she murmured, and her expression slowly closed, like a heavy door slamming shut against its own weight, and for a brief second I could see disbelief, longing, fear on her face until it was blank again. I could relate to those emotions, because I felt them all too, to a degree, but I don't think I felt them as strongly as she did. She had told me before that she had always been very self-contained, and I wondered if she'd ever actually opened up to anyone the way I wanted her to open up to me. And I knew I had to find out, knew I had to see her again.

"Look," I whispered, making a decision. "I'm taking the kids bowling Friday night to celebrate Sectionals. You should come with us. I just…" For a moment I felt confused, found it so difficult to articulate what I wanted from her without saying something I wasn't completely certain I meant, but I was certain enough that it surprised me. Not enough to try to explain it to her, however. Finally, I managed to stammer out "I want to know you. I can't really think beyond that, I just… I want you there. With me. For me."

She closed her eyes tightly, as though she couldn't bear to look at me while she considered, and I held my breath, because somehow I thought all of this was more difficult for her than it was for me. The only thing I was finding difficult was the fact that none of it seemed difficult at all, but she was different. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I knew if she said no it was all over and I thought _that_ would be difficult for me. And then her eyes opened, and again I couldn't figure out what I was seeing in them, but they were soft at least.

"Okay," she murmured. "Okay."

I grinned, leaned forward and pressed my smiling mouth to hers, felt her slowly smile against me too, and for a moment I thought maybe her answer had made her as happy as I was.

**TBC**

_Seriously, guys, I hate to beg for reviews but... Please review. When no one reviews I think people hated the chapter, and it makes me cry at work. Okay not really. But it bums me out, for sure._


	15. Right Here

Okay, so I have a lot of apologizing to do here... First of all, I'm sorry for disappearing again! No sooner had I recovered my charger but I came down with the flu :( I couldn't write for a few days due to sleeping all the time and having bizarre fever dreams, but I'm finally feeling better and back to writing. I'm sorry if any of you were concerned! But no worries, back on schedule now ;)

I also have to apologize because I think most of you Wemma fans won't like this chapter much. Just please, stick with me, I will make it right for everyone in the end!

_For _jilly74, Sierra-Jae, Dementedx, Wemmamazing_ (+ imaginary fruit basket for PMing to make sure I wasn't dead), _xJuBee, PlainJane1, Valentinas, jeffandjimmieschick_ (x13, because she reviewed 12 chapters of _**AM21**_ as well) and _barndoorstinson_. Thank you so much for your encouragement! I hope I'm not letting you down... And seriously, I'm sorry about this... Also obviously for _**traceit**_, who assured me that though this chapter might be difficult for Wemma fans, you guys are strong and can handle it :)_

**15**

Since Monday, I had been avoiding Emma in the most craven, cowardly way, and I felt guilty about it, of course I did. But I also felt that it was the only way, because I had no idea how I felt about her, no idea what I could even say to her, especially now, especially considering my suspicions about my feelings for Honor. I cared very deeply about Emma. For a long time, she had been my only friend, and the thought of seeing her at school had been the only thing that got me out of bed day after day, and those feelings could easily have grown into something much more. Probably would have, if I had gone anywhere except the Liquor Box Friday night. But I hadn't gone to Harry's or Sugar Street or Skyline, I'd driven all the way across town to a bar I'd never been to before, and gotten drunk, and performed bad karaoke and met the woman I strongly suspected was the new love of my life. It was just… Bad luck, bad timing, I don't know. Fate, maybe. The worst part was that it wasn't that I didn't love Emma; I did, in some way, I just didn't love her enough, or as much, or something, but that didn't mean I wanted to hurt her, either. Of course I didn't.

It was all such a mess. And so I avoided her because I didn't know how to face her, didn't know how to look into those warm brown eyes that I loved so well and douse the hope that had recently kindled there. She deserved to be happy, as happy as I was, and I didn't know how to tell her that if anyone was going to make her happy, it wasn't going to be me. Part of me felt so… Ungrateful, because she had given me so much, her love, her acceptance, her understanding, anything I needed, everything I needed, and now that I was finally free to return all of those things to her the way I ought to, the way I wanted to, I… Couldn't. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that I was in love with Honor, with her effortless kindness and her sweetness but also with the occasional flashes of ferocity I saw in her, the pain that sometimes surfaced in her eyes. I wanted to know everything about her, the good and the bad, wanted to be with her and there for her and… God, it really was horrible timing. But it happens like that, I know it does, know it because one afternoon when I was 15 I was cutting across the football field after glee rehearsal when my attention was drawn by a group of cheerleaders practicing a pyramid routine. I watched as one of them ascended to the top, stood on the shoulders of her teammates with perfect grace and assurance, and as the sun illuminated her from behind like a halo, I absolutely knew that she was the woman I was going to marry.

It's impossible to explain how I knew, how it felt when I did, it was just a soul-deep certainty, an epiphany that somehow didn't shock me. Rather, it was like remembering something I was already aware of, something that I hadn't quite forgotten but which had been buried in the back of my mind until seeing her brought it to the forefront. The way I felt about Honor was similar, not quite the same, but familiar, like being reminded about something that had never quite left my consciousness but had slipped away. What I felt for Emma, on the other hand, was completely different, warm and sweet and gentle but not… Not the same, not at all, and I think part of me doubted the strength of my regard for her not just due to the fact that I was in the throes of an intense infatuation, impossible to resist, but simply because it hadn't happened in a way that I was used to. I'd known Emma for a long time, cared about her for almost all of it, but surely if I loved her in a romantic sense I'd _know_ it, the way I had with Terri, the way I did with Honor. Right? Maybe that's how it was supposed to be for me, how it had to be for me, something that struck me hard, like lightning, something that filled me, some kind of passion. In the end it kept coming back to the difference between warmth and heat, something tepid and something electrifying.

I was pondering this alone in my office, attempting to focus through the occasional distracting flashes of being with Honor here the day before, when Emma tracked me down. Not that I was hiding, or anything, exactly. But if I'd thought she'd seek me out I'd have gone straight to glee rehearsal and not lingered and I felt awful for thinking that, awful for avoiding her because I knew she knew I was doing it but didn't know why.

"Will?" she asked quietly, opening the door just enough to look in. "Can I come in?"

Forcing myself to smile, I nodded. "Of course, Emma, please. What can I do for you?"

She returned my smile, and I wondered if my expression looked as awkward and uncomfortable as hers was. "Nothing, nothing, I was just… I mean, I haven't spoken to you in… A few days, actually, and that's not normal so I wanted to… Check on you, I guess, make sure you were alright. Is everything alright?" The look she gave me was so earnest and hopeful that I found it physically painful.

"Everything is… Well, you know, I'm just… Distracted, I guess," I stammered in response, trying so hard not to lie, or at least not lie completely. Hating myself. "This whole thing with the divorce and everything… Just figuring out how to do it is hard. Draining I guess."

"Oh," she whispered, and her smile became slightly more natural. "Oh. Of course. I didn't even… I mean, I thought of that, but I didn't really… I had this weird feeling that you were avoiding me." She laughed, and I forced myself to hold her gaze instead of shifting my eyes away guiltily.

"Well, I have been," I admitted, trying to be as truthful as possible. "But only because I'm such terrible company, I don't really want to inflict myself on anyone right now." Okay, that was stretching it a little.

"Oh, Will," she murmured. "You don't have to worry about that with me. I know things are complicated for you right now. I'd never hold any of that against you."

"I know," I responded, sick inside. "And I appreciate that, I really do."

She smiled at me again, a genuine smile this time, her eyes and face both lighting up, and she looked so dear and familiar that for a moment I wished I'd never met Honor, wished things could go back to the way they had been back when I'd thought Emma was all I needed to be happy, and that I could make her happy too. "Good. I mean, that's good to hear, you know. I was… I don't know, I thought you were upset with me or something, I couldn't figure it out."

"I could never be upset with you," I told her honestly.

"Oh. That's… Good to hear." She beamed at me for a long moment, and I wondered, briefly, what the hell I was doing. Emma was sweet and kind and beautiful and _right here_, and she wanted me, needed me maybe. Her feelings for me were real, I knew they were. And until Friday night I'd thought mine for her were too, but now… I couldn't think straight, I couldn't hear my thoughts clearly over the sound of Honor's voice in my mind, a voice whispering things I didn't have the power to doubt.

"Well," Emma continued, pulling me out of my reverie. "I should probably… Go, you know, I have some things to do at home but… Did you still need me to chaperone tomorrow night at the bowling alley? Because I can still cancel my SAT prep class, it's not too late." The expression on her face fairly screamed that she'd like nothing more.

"No, no, I can't let you do that," I demurred, a little desperately. The last thing I needed was Honor and Emma within a few bowling lanes of one another. It was hard enough to avoid making comparisons as it was, and I still felt awful every time. "I got another friend to help out, so no need to cancel anything. Thanks though, I appreciate the thought." I tried to soften the sting of rejection with a smile, because god I didn't want to hurt her. Just the thought of hurting her hurt me, but I didn't know… Couldn't think… Wasn't sure what to do. What I was doing.

"Well it wouldn't be a problem you know…" she trailed off, looking at me hopefully.

"I can't put you to all that trouble. Besides, you hate bowling ever since they told you that you can't wear your own shoes," I pointed out.

She shuddered as though she couldn't quite help it, and the gesture helped ground me as I imagined reaching for her, trying to touch her and receiving the same response. Because I would, I knew I would, and it wasn't her fault but it wouldn't exactly do anything for my self-esteem either. "True. But I mean, I could sit on the sidelines and cheer or something."

I shook my head, smiled gently. "I won't hear of it, Em. Besides, the kids will be disappointed if they don't get to spend their Friday night with you."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, so disappointed. I'm pretty sure they all think the Friday night classes are an extra punishment arranged by their parents or something."

"Are they?" I asked.

"Well, yes, I mean, it was the parents' idea, but…" she shrugged. "That's not the point."

"If you're being paid to punish them by commandeering their Friday nights, I really think canceling is out of the question," I said.

She sighed. "I know. But I did want to go, Will."

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the glow on her face when she said my name. "Some other time, right?"

"Right," she agreed. "I guess I'd better go, you have glee rehearsal and I have some prep to do for tomorrow night. Will I see you at lunch tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," I responded, shaking my head. "I just need some time, you know? I need to think about things, figure things out…" All of that was true, at least.

"I understand." She opened the door to my office, then turned back and looked at me. "If I don't see you before tomorrow night, have fun, okay?"

"I'm sure I will," I murmured, resolutely keeping my mind from all the different kinds of fun I hoped to have. It seemed wrong, disrespectful, to be having those kinds of thoughts about Honor when Emma was standing there before me, so sweet and kind.

"Good, good… And just let me know if you need me to cancel my class after all," she added once more. "The kids would be just thrilled, and…" she trailed off, colored.

"And?" I prompted, smiling fondly.

"And so would I," she finished, voice quiet, expression soft and yearning.

Oh god, it hurt. "I'll let you know, Em," I said, more gruffly than I'd intended. "But I wouldn't count on it."

She shrugged and nodded, then closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall. I could hear the muffled clicking of the heels of her adorable mary janes- she always wore adorable mary janes- grow fainter and fainter as she moved further and further away, and I buried my head in my hands, full of self-loathing. It just wasn't fair, not that anyone ever said life was, or that I'd ever expected it to be, but god. Emma had waited so long for me, and I had waited so long to be happy with her, and for all of that to be derailed because of a stupid night of drunken karaoke…

But it wasn't just that. No, that stupid night of drunken karaoke had changed my life, and thereby Emma's, for better or for worse, and I couldn't change it back even if I wanted to. Part of me did want to. I wanted to be the man Emma thought I was, the man she'd loved for so long, but even before I'd met Honor I'd suspected I'd never been that man, never would be. She expected too little of me, expected that I needed her to build me up, and yet wanted so much from me, wanted me to be everything to her, as though just by having me all her problems would be solved and I couldn't reconcile those two contradictory things, couldn't be both or even either of them. Honor didn't expect or want anything from me; I got the feeling she didn't even _want_ to expect or want anything from me.

I laughed then, out loud, the sound surprising in my small, silent office. It was such a mess, so ironic. Emma wanted me, and I wanted Honor, and Honor… Well, it was entirely possible Honor didn't want anything at all. What would I do then? Would I turn to Emma if Honor was out of the picture, if she rejected me? No, no, of course not. She was my friend, someone I cared about, not a consolation prize; she deserved to be loved, really loved, in a way I apparently wasn't capable of loving her now. _But you might have been_, I thought sadly. _If you'd just gotten drunk at home that night, you might have been._

**TBC**

_I just want to reiterate that this is not the final word on Will's feelings for Emma! They will be dealt with in even greater depth in later chapters... (Please don't kill me.)_**  
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	16. x Bravery

_For _Wemmamazing, barndoorstinson, Dementedx, Greys has become my life _(yay, welcome back!), _emmaschuester15_ (I appreciate ALL feedback, as long as it's constructive and honest!), _Valentinas, christierrr_ and _Sierra-Jae_. And I'd like to give an additional extra-special thanks and an imaginary fruitbasket to _PlainJane1_, who is not only a valued and dedicated reviewer but also posted this story's 100th review! Wow, and we're hardly halfway through! Thank you all so much for your dedication and your willingness to trust me with this story, even when certain chapters aren't entirely to your liking (though the backlash wasn't nearly as bad as I expected). Finally, of course, for _**traceit**_, even though I didn't finish this chapter in time to send it to her... She'd have made it so much better, as she always does._

Please skip this chapter if you're offended by, or too young to read, **graphic adult content**.

**16**

There's not much to say about the early part of Friday night, not much interesting anyway. Honor was nearly two hours late, and my concern for her distracted me to the point that my already-questionable bowling skills completely deteriorated. The kids loved that, of course, and really enjoyed beating me mercilessly while I was preoccupied wondering if she'd show up at all, a preoccupation that slowly grew into genuine concern that something serious might be wrong. But she arrived just before I had the chance to really panic, and any panic I might have felt was there in her eyes, too, as though she was afraid of what was happening between us, as though she thought she should fight it. Maybe she was, maybe she did, I don't know, I only know that the second I saw her I felt... Peace, serenity, certainty. Looking at her, knowing and really accepting the emotions I had for her, I was filled with a profound sense of rightness, a magnified version of things I'd felt all along, puzzle pieces falling into place, soaring deep in my chest and I was just light, so light, and it was brilliant. I'd never been so free.

She, on the other hand, was afraid. I could see it in her eyes, in her posture, and I realized that's what Wednesday in the choir room had been all about; she hadn't been upset with me, she'd been trying to keep her distance from me, and I suppose what happened between us in my office really messed with that plan. I was glad, even if she was afraid, glad because she was there despite her fear, glad because she was there despite her reluctance, and I knew that a feeling like this, whatever was growing between us, was too much for anyone to fight, and I wasn't worried, knew she would have to give in the way I had, not that I'd bother to fight at all. But then I'm used to making decisions based on emotions, and I suspected that perhaps she was not. It was funny to _suspect_, to not know, because despite my feelings for her I didn't know her, really, but it didn't change anything for me. Instead, I felt excited, like a kid on Christmas morning with the most perfect present packed into box after box, nestled inside layer after layer of beautiful, intricate wrapping paper. All along I'd wanted to open her, in every way, and I couldn't help feeling that I could open her forever and never reach her essential self, and that didn't bother me. The discovery was the point, and somehow I knew that nothing I learned could change what burned in me for her at this moment.

That feeling was my constant companion as we bowled, as she watched me and I watched her and the kids just massacred both of us. The expression on her face was almost shell-shocked, as though slowly coming to the realization that whatever was happening really couldn't be avoided, and I wanted to reassure her that everything would be fine, everything would be wonderful, but it wasn't exactly the time or place. So I joked with my students and accepted my losses as gracefully as I could and the entire time I was just so aware of her, couldn't wait to be near her, to touch her. Not in a carnal way, though of course there was that desire, too, but just in any way, and kissing her before she slid into the front seat of my car, holding her hand on the seat between us as I drove, those small gestures helped me feel close to her. I didn't even care that they were performed in front of students, Mercedes with an avid, interested expression on her face, Kurt seeming almost offended. It didn't matter, because I was with her and anyway none of the physical affection we were sharing was inappropriate, despite the sullen twist of Kurt's lips.

We drove the entire way from Kurt's house to hers in silence, one that didn't feel uncomfortable to me. I just enjoyed the warmth of her fingers laced with mine and the soft sound of her breath, enjoyed being quiet with her. Finally I pulled into her empty driveway- strange that I'd never seen another car parked there- hopped out and opened her door for her, kept close to her as we walked up the path to the front door. It was cold and icy and I was worried she'd slip, and also that the black cardigan she wore over my own collared shirt was too thin for the weather, a worry that proved accurate as she shivered next to me. I quickly settled my overcoat around her shoulders, smoothing down the collar, caressing her throat, and she glanced at me sharply, as though I'd done something wrong. But she didn't say anything, just sighed, a puff of steam in the chilly air, and closed her eyes tightly for a moment, and when she opened them the sharp edges were completely smooth, her irises deep and clear and almost glowing though the expression on her face never changed. Strange as it was I didn't question it, just smiled at her, followed her inside and up the stairs and down the hall to her spartan bedroom.

She looked at me, stood still as though in a trance, and I moved close to her, set my lips gently to hers. They were warm and soft and trembling ever so slightly beneath mine, and I felt such exhilaration from our contact I can't even properly describe it, my blood literally singing in my veins as I teased her mouth open with my tongue and she met it with her own. Still lost in the sweet taste of her, I pushed my overcoat off her shoulders, allowing it to fall unheeded to the floor, and her cardigan followed immediately thereafter because it was in my way and I didn't approve of anything that came between us at this moment. I held her close to me, felt her soft curves pressed against my body, trailed my fingers up her back and down her arms. Lifting my head, I kissed her ear softly. "Are you cold?" I asked, touching my lips to her temple, her cheek, her neck while I waited for her answer.

I felt rather than saw her shake her head, and I smiled with my mouth still pressed to her throat. Then I began to work on the buttons of her shirt- my shirt, actually, which looked so much better on her but more than that made me feel proud and possessive, as though her wearing it proved that she was mine. As I freed each button I teased my fingers across her newly bared flesh, followed my fingers with my lips, tasted the valley between her breasts, the slope of her stomach, her lower abdomen right below her belly button. She sighed and gasped with my every movement, the involuntary sounds spurring me on, and as the shirt fell to join my overcoat and her cardigan the look she gave me was so lustful it was all I could do to stop myself from pulling her down to join them, too. But the night had just started and I had plans, so instead I knelt before her, removed her ridiculously impractical shoes (open toes in Ohio in December? Really?) and stroked her feet. Not that I'm some kind of foot fetishist or anything but hers were just… Cute, I guess, small and dainty, and I didn't want to neglect any part of her body.

She tried to assist me as I did this, reaching down to undo her jeans, but I halted her. "Let me," I murmured, because I wanted to be the one to lay her bare physically as much as I wanted to lay her bare emotionally, too, almost felt that the two were connected somehow. Tugging her pants down over the gentle swell of her hips, I caressed her calves, the backs of her knees, trailed my mouth over the same spots, licked and kissed her inner thighs as she made soft noises of wordless agreement.

When she began to sway on her feet, I stood and stared at her, my eyes running over her body the same way my fingers and lips had. It was dark in the room but her skin was pale, contrasting perfectly with the dark purple silk and lace of her matching lingerie set, and I could see the contours of her body easily, her full breasts and hips, the hourglass curve of her waist. I raised my hands, trembling with barely repressed desire, to her form, unhooked her bra, allowed her flawless breasts to spill out into my palms, and of course I had to taste her. Her nipples, already hard, grew even harder in my mouth as I teased them with my lips and tongue, and when I scraped my teeth over the sensitive peaks she cried out, sounding both surprised and delighted. At some point I eased her panties down, abandoned them to the pile on the floor, and as I did so I realized this was the first time she'd actually been completely naked prior to us making love. That fact seemed fitting somehow.

I pulled away finally, wanting to see her fully bare, and guided her to the bed even as I took in the sight of her nakedness, the faint bruises still visible on her neck and forearms from our first time together, the darker marks between her thighs from Wednesday when she'd had her legs wrapped so tightly around me. Once she was reclining, waiting for me, I undressed myself quickly, unbearably aroused by the way she watched me, by the desire I saw in her eyes. Finally I was as naked as she was, and I pressed myself against her urgently, kissing her the same, my hands moving over her body, stroking every inch of skin I could reach. She touched me back, trailed her fingers down my chest and abdomen before circling them around my cock, and I gasped at the jolt of pleasure that shot through me as she caressed me, her hand sliding up and down, just enough pressure, just enough speed.

Anxious to reciprocate, I urged her to spread her legs for me, groaned when I came in contact with her wet heat. My fingers found her entrance almost automatically, and I slid two deep inside of her, groaning at the now familiar sensation of her tight cunt- god, how could she still be so _tight_?- stretching for me. She cried out, and I continued pumping my fingers inside of her, sliding them in and out and feeling her contract around me, lifting her hips to force them deeper. I kissed my way down her body, pausing to suck her nipples once more, continuing over her stomach and hips before spending long minutes on her inner thighs, moving my lips closer and closer to her center but never quite close enough as she moaned and begged for me to put her out of her misery.

"Please, god, Will, please, fortheloveofgod _please_!" Her voice was breathless and broken, and I gave in because I wanted what she wanted, wanted to taste her as much as she wanted me to. I buried my face between her legs, two fingers still stroking deep inside her, spreading her folds with my other hand and exploring with my tongue as she writhed beneath me. She was just like the song, sticky-sweet, and slightly salty too, and the taste of her was overwhelming and perfect. My view of her was the same, all of her slick pink flesh visible to me, and I licked every inch in time with the movement of my fingers, ecstatic at the way she kept raising herself in perfect rhythm, trying to bring her body more fully into contact with my mouth. Finally I gave her what she wanted, pressing my lips against her and sucking gently, flicking my tongue over her clit again and again until she was arching up off the bed, moaning my name and tugging at my hair, and she was so fucking beautiful, tasted so fucking good, I wanted to devour her like this all night.

She was close, I knew she was close, but I refused to push her over the edge, just kept her trapped within shouting distance of ecstasy because I didn't want to stop what I was doing, didn't want the experience to end. I definitely wanted to make her come, needed to make her come, and a significant part of me wanted to feel her shuddering against my mouth, contracting around my fingers. But I didn't finish her that way. Instead I carefully eased her back down, slowly decreasing the speed of my tongue, slowly withdrawing from her body, until her moans and cries weren't quite so urgent. As much as I wanted to bring her to climax with my mouth, I wanted to be inside her when it happened even more, wanted to watch her face the way I had in my office and feel her tighten around my cock.

Reaching down to me, she tugged me up to her, kissed me deeply, and I wondered if she could taste herself on my lips, wondered if she knew how sweet she was. I pushed myself against her, rubbed my cock against her entrance, and she spread her legs even wider, guided me inside while murmuring my name over and over again as though it was the only word that made sense. Once more I felt her tight heat enveloping me, the sensation so exquisite I couldn't force myself to sink into her slowly and instead surged forward, filling her completely with one powerful thrust. She held me even closer, clutched me to her, and there was something tender about this embrace in spite of or perhaps because of its intensity. My only option was to respond in kind, echoing her tenderness as I moved within her, rocking gently back and forth so that I was always inside of her, rubbing against her clit with every flex of my hips. And it didn't feel different to me, honestly it didn't, because from the first time I'd touched her I'd been filled with joy and reverence, even when I'd been bruising her, holding her down, but she felt different. Not physically, but emotionally, what I was feeling from her was softer, gentler, and her eyes were warm and melting as they met mine, as I kissed her, stroked her hair away from her face, laced my fingers with hers. It all made me think- hope- that maybe she had given in, at last, in the face of the emotions I hadn't bothered fighting.

We moved this way for longer than I can imagine, but time ceased to have any meaning anyway, and eventually I could feel her growing tighter and tighter around me, cradling me so perfectly, her muscles tensing, and I'd never felt anything as satisfying as the way her cunt surrounded me and stroked me as I thrust into her again and again. She gasped and arched up, hard, her body trembling rhythmically around my cock, and she sighed my name against my lips as she thawed- and I use that word purposely, because now I knew that before something about her had been cold, something inside, and it wasn't anymore- in my arms, and she was afraid and I knew it but she still came for me because she was so brave and I loved her for it and for everything else, too. Once more, the expression on her face was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, more beautiful even than it had been in my office because this time I was with her, really with her, and I could see the ecstasy rising on her features like the sun, like dawn breaking gloriously in the east, and it was too much, far too much for me to take. I broke too, either like the dawn or like something fragile, moved even more deeply as I came inside her, filling her with every thrust and repeating her name in an unending litany, a prayer I knew god (if he existed) would surely understand.

**TBC**

_I'd just like to add that I haven't had a chance to give this more than a cursory edit, but I'm tired and have to be up early so please forgive any typos. I'll clean it up in the morning, I promise!_**  
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	17. Belief

_For _Sierra-Jae, Wemmamazing, barndoorstinson, Valentinas, PlainJane1_ and _christierrr_. As always, thank you so much for your continued support! I shall always continue to endeavor to be worthy of it. And of course for _**traceit**_, who again did not get to work her magic on this chapter because I suck and couldn't get ahead fast enough. But I have tomorrow off so hopefully this worrisome trend won't continue. If this chapter is bad, and really it might be, it is in no way her fault because she never even saw it :(_

**17**

I would say that it took me a long time to come down from the high we'd shared, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate; rather, it might be best to say I didn't come down, couldn't come down, not as long as she was near me, as long as she was in my arms. She _was_ the high, her skin on mine, her head nestled on my chest, listening as my heart beat frantically for her while I softly stroked her hair. Even when my heart rate and breathing were steady, I still felt an echo of the euphoria that had filled me at the height of our passion. It was right, I knew, it was the way it should be even though it had never been like this for me before. Nothing had ever been right like this for me before, and I knew by the way she melted into me that the same was true for her, just knew it as clearly as though she'd spoken those very words out loud. There were three words on the tip of my tongue, three words I desperately wanted to say now that I was certain beyond all doubt that they were true, but I was also certain that no matter what she was feeling she wasn't ready to hear them, wasn't ready to believe them. Self-contained, that was the word she'd used to describe herself, and it was perfectly accurate, perfectly obvious that all of this must be so much more difficult for her than it was for me. But I could wait to say what I needed to say, could wait until she was ready, as long as she was waiting with me, and someday I'd make a dual promise to her: _I love you. You won't be lonely._

While those were not the words to use at this moment, I felt the need to say something, anything, whatever would draw from her the acknowledgement that something had grown between us, not because I needed to know. I knew already. But I needed to know she knew, needed to hear her admit it.

"Can I tell you something?" I murmured, my voice soft and drowsy, the words feeling unnecessarily complicated in my mouth. She made no verbal response, but I felt her nod against me and I took that as her version of _Yes_. Gently, I placed one finger under her chin and encouraged her to raise her head, look up at me, meet my gaze with hers. Her eyes were glowing into mine, radiating the same warmth they'd held outside on her front steps, and I smiled at her, basking in that light.

"I know we don't know each other that well," I began, even though to me that didn't matter, "and I know we didn't exactly meet in a normal way" (_understatement_) "but this past week I've just…" I trailed off, frustrated, finding it very difficult to tone down my feelings even though I knew for now I needed to. "Enjoyed your company. And I know things are complicated for me right now, but I hope… I really want to keep seeing you. I really… I don't know, really like you… And whatever… And this isn't coming out right at all." It really wasn't, not that I'd planned what to say. But I almost felt that all my efforts to underplay my emotions had been _too_ successful, that I wasn't properly conveying the most important thing to get across. I laughed a little, still trying to think of the best way to put my thoughts. "I want to be with you, Honor. That's all."

To me, this phrase seemed perfect, because it had different shades of meaning, encompassed an entire spectrum from _I want to be with you occasionally while eating dinner or watching a movie at the local cineplex_ to _I want to be with you, constantly, always, forever_. I meant it in a way that was somewhere right in the middle, though I knew it would inevitably slide down the line because that was the way it happened, the endgame, so to speak. No need to mention that now, however. Instead I examined her face, trying to determine the impact of my statement. What I saw was… Not encouraging. The light in her eyes had dimmed considerably, and her expression was alert and serious, far from the dazed, sleepy smiles she'd worn moments before. She was afraid, again, still, despite all the care I'd taken, and I was even more certain of this analysis when she sat up and pulled away from me, hunching in on herself like an animal attempting to protect her vital organs.

"You don't really," she informed me, and her voice was cold, devoid of any feeling or inflection.

It amused me that her attempt to read my mind had failed so miserably. She could not have been more wrong if she'd tried. "I think I'd be the expert on what I want, here."

"You want whatever it is you think I am," she answered, and now there was inflection, an accusatory tone. "You don't know anything about me, anything about my life. And you…" she trailed off, as frustrated by what she was trying to tell me as I'd been earlier, trying to choose the exact right words. "You're good and kind and just… _Good_ and you think everyone else is like that but they're not. You'd know that if you knew anything about me, anything real."

I sat up and angled myself towards her, trying my best to tamp down on the pleasure I felt at her words, the complimentary ones at least, because I knew what was happening now was serious, life-and-death serious. "That's not true." I denied. "That's not true at all. I know everything I need to."

She laughed, and it was very different from any sound I'd heard from her before, hard and sharp and ugly, scornful, and now that I thought about it I much preferred her automaton voice. "Like what? What do you think you know about me?" Yes, _much_ preferred.

"Look…" I began, taking her hands in mine, feeling them small and soft and strangely cold, trembling, fragile in my grasp. "When I confronted my very-soon-to-be-ex-wife about… everything, she said something that really struck home. She told me that our marriage only worked because I didn't feel good about myself-"

"Yes, well, she is a horrible human being," Honor pointed out, and of course I couldn't have agreed more, but I couldn't allow myself to be distracted.

"She was right," I continued, and I hated to admit that, hated to confess how weak I'd been. "She made me feel awful about myself and she used that to keep me with her. But you…" Again the struggle to explain what she made me feel without explaining everything, without scaring her away for good, but with this I needed to tell more of the truth, needed to make everything clearer. "Whenever I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything. You _tell me_ I can do anything. Most of the time, I hated who I was when I was with Terri. The person I am when I'm with you… He's who I want to be." And that's what it really came down to, all my feelings for her. She made me want to be a better person, and she made that desire seem utterly attainable, as though I'd done it already.

She withdrew her hands from mine, shook her head, and her expression was condescending, the kind of look I might wear when explaining some fact of adult life to my students."Will, you were trapped with that woman for so long, you think I'm special," she said. "But anyone, _anyone_ would treat you that way, make you feel that way. I can't imagine anyone could help it."

And this was just a perfect example of why I felt what I felt for her, the fact that even while having this conversation she spoke about me as though I had value, as though anyone could see that I had value, and I couldn't help but smile. "I know for a fact that isn't true," I responded, thinking briefly of Emma. "And even if it was, I wouldn't care."

There was something new in her eyes now, something beyond fear, closer to panic. "You don't understand-"

"I think I do," I interrupted, because I did, I really did.

"You don't," she argued, pausing to gather her thoughts, her expression firm, resolved.. "Would you like me to tell you something real? It's a long story but the punchline really makes it worth it."

Her face contorted into what I suspected was meant to be a smile, lips twisted, and I knew that whatever she wanted to tell me wasn't something she really wanted to tell me, was something she'd rather not think about at all. "Honor, you don't have to tell me anything." And she didn't, not at all. I remembered the way I'd felt earlier, that nothing I could learn about her could change the fact that I loved her, needed her, and it was still true. Would always be true. It killed me that I couldn't tell her that.

"I do," she contradicted, shaking her head firmly. "I have to tell you this, because you… Have no idea what you're talking about, Will." She laughed, and it was like her "smile", twisted and almost painful, the kind of sound that made your throat hurt when you imagined making it yourself. Her eyes closed, tightly, and I knew she was remembering something painful

"Ten years ago I ran away from home," she stated, and her voice was once more drained of inflection, or rather very carefully inflected, very controlled. "I had a huge fight with my mother, and I stormed out, and she told me that if I walked out the door, I could never come back. She said I'd be dead to her until I came crawling on my hands and knees begging for her forgiveness." From the even cadence of her voice she could almost be recounting a movie, quoting a particular line, but I could hear the hurt hiding inside each word. I thought about what she'd told me before when I'd asked about her family. _I had one. I wasn't unhappy._ And I tried to imagine the kind of mother who could say something like that to her child, and found it completely impossible, and knew she must have been unhappy, could only have been unhappy living with someone like that.

"But I left anyway," she added, and now there was defiance hidden in what she said, something I could feel from her even though it wasn't expressed.

It hurt me to watch her do this to herself. "Honor, that's not-"

"I'm not done." She held up one hand, an attempt to physically hold off my protests, and I fell silent because she seemed hell-bent on hurting herself in front of me, hurting me by proxy, and if she thought she needed to tell me something, I would listen. "I ran away, I made a new life for myself, an amazing life… But the beginning was hard. I missed her. I wanted so badly to hear her voice that I'd call just so she would answer the phone." I had a very vivid image of her teenaged self clinging tightly to a phone, listening to her mother's greeting echoing on the other line, refusing to respond to it out of pride or fear, not that I blamed her.

"She must have known it was me because one day I called and the number was disconnected." She gasped as though those words pierced her, and I imagined they must have, because it was just… So cruel. I couldn't conceive of the fact that anyone lucky enough to have a child, any child, much less one as beautiful and intelligent as Honor, could ever treat something so precious with such disdain; I certainly would have been incapable of it. Surely most people would.

"It was worse than the night I left, I think," she explained, almost pensive, genuinely comparing the pain of both occasions, "because she'd planned it, she'd known what would happen, she'd known someday I'd call and discover I was cut off from everything, in every way, that she didn't care about me at all."

There was something so stark, so empty about that statement, and I couldn't stand it, couldn't just sit and watch her do this, had to touch her, comfort her if I could. I moved close, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against me, and she turned into me like the child she had once been, buried her face in the crook of my neck.

"Several years later, she was dying. She tried to call me, sent me letters, apologized over and over, cried on my answering machine, begged for forgiveness. _Begged_ to see me just one more time, to speak to me." I held her tighter, sensing that she was reaching the climax of her story and there was nowhere good for it to go, no happy resolution anywhere in sight.

"I wouldn't speak to her," she confessed, and it… Surprised me. It seemed like a cruel thing, almost as cruel as what her mother had done, and I couldn't picture her behaving with such deliberate spite. "I sent her letters back unopened, erased her messages, ignored her calls. I disconnected my phone number." And as she whispered this, I believed, because she sounded ashamed but there was also an echo of accomplishment, as though she had once been proud of it, and I was shocked by the pure sadism of it. "And after 18 months, she died. And I felt nothing at all."

I stared at her, deeply conflicted, because whatever I had expected it hadn't been this and this was… Worse. Worse than whatever I'd thought it might be. Not that it changed my essential feelings for her; it didn't, nothing could. But it revealed a side of her I'd never experienced and never imagined, a side that I didn't like, to be quite honest. As I was trying to decide what my response should be, she turned into me again, and I felt something warm and wet on my chest and realized she was crying. She cried the way she'd related her story, no sobs or gasps, just a silent trickle of tears that reminded me of turning on a faucet when the water itself is turned off and all that comes out is a few pathetic drops and then nothing.

And everything fell into place. No matter what she said, no matter how controlled, how self-contained she tried to be, she wasn't unaffected by any of this. I suspected she felt it all deeply, so deeply she did her best not to feel anything at all, and I couldn't be repelled by her, or even necessarily by her actions because now I understood them, at least to an extent. Of course, I'd never have behaved that way, again was incapable of it, but god knows I've made mistakes, and I couldn't think less of her just because her flaws were different than mine. Once more I placed my finger under her chin, tilted her face up to mine, and while her expression was like everything else, controlled, her eyes were bleak and miserable and so vulnerable, so heartbreaking.

"Obviously that isn't true," I told her, brushing her tears away, feeling the liquid between my fingers and wondering if she ever cried, really cried. "And it doesn't change anything."

Her controlled expression slowly morphed into one of… Not even shock, but confusion, complete and utter confusion as she drew her brows together. "I don't think you understand-"

"I don't think _you_ understand." I gathered my thoughts for a moment, because I knew whatever I said next had to be right, had to be perfect, and knew I had to say it with the ferocity I felt, had to convince her. "That isn't who you are; that's something you did. Something bad, something horrible," I allowed, because it was, and we both knew it and I wouldn't deny it. "But you're paying for it now. I just wish you wouldn't let it make you hate yourself, because you are so…" God, what words, what words to use? I remembered the tone of her voice when she'd spoken of her perception of me, and I knew what she needed to hear. Conveniently enough, it was the truth. "Everything you said about me, Honor. You are. Just… You're _good_, at least as good as I am."

The tension on her face faded away and was replaced with a dawning light of understanding, of belief or almost-belief, whatever you'd call it when someone begins to think they might be able to believe, if there's even a word for that. I cupped her chin in my hand and kissed everything away, fierce, like if I just pressed my mouth to hers hard enough she'd stop beginning to think and just accept, just believe. She returned the pressure of my lips with equal fervor, and before I really knew what was happening she was under me and I was telling her everything she needed to know using only my body, no words, because the words I most wanted to say were the very ones I couldn't but she had to know, had to understand, and I had to make her somehow, had to prove it. And I could, I knew I could, could convince her all night long if she'd let me. _I love you. You won't be lonely._ Whether I gave voice to those sentiments or not, they had been true before her confession and remained true now and she couldn't push me away because I wouldn't allow it. Would _never_ allow it.

**TBC**

_Once more, please forgive my typos... So tired, will edit in the morning..._

_(Confidential to _Wemmamazing_: Painfully. Very very painfully. I'm very much looking forward to doing it, because I am a sadistic bitch.)_


	18. A Mistake

_For _xJuBee, Sierra-Jae, Wemmamazing, PlainJane1, barndoorstinson, Valentinas_ and _christierrr_. I'm so glad and so grateful that you're willing to spend your time reading what I've written; I will always do my utmost to make it worth your while. You'll be happy to know that this chapter is _**traceit**_ approved! So of course it's for her as well :)_

Things are about to get... Interesting.

**18**

"Hello?"

"Mr. Schuester? It's Kurt."

I blinked and looked down at my cell phone in surprise; I hadn't even registered the fact that it was ringing, hadn't even realized I'd decided to answer it until it was pressed to my ear, and upon discovering that I was apparently already engaged in a conversation when I wasn't even entirely certain I was awake, I considered hanging up. But I could still hear Kurt's voice faintly, calling what might have been my name, and it slowly occurred to me in my sleep-dazed state that the only reason he could possibly be calling so early on a Saturday would be if there was some emergency. This woke me up as effectively as a shot or two of espresso, because of course if Kurt needed me I would never turn my back on him, and I lifted the phone to my ear once more, completely alert.

"Kurt? What's wrong?" I demanded, worried. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he answered, and his voice was higher than usual, almost panicked, trembling. "No, it's not alright… I'm so sorry, Mr. Schue, I didn't know-"

"Calm down," I soothed. "It's going to be just fine, okay? Whatever is wrong, we'll fix it together."

"You don't understand." His words were thick, as though he'd been crying, and I was even more concerned now. "It's not… I don't think it's fixable, and it's my fault and I am _so sorry_."

This was truly alarming. "Just tell me what happened. We'll think of something. I'll think of something, I promise you." I only hoped I could keep that promise once he explained the situation. If he was in jail for an armed robbery masterminded by Puck during which someone got shot (unlikely, granted, but not unlikely enough), for example…

He took a deep, shaky breath. "Your friend, the woman who came to rehearsal and went bowling with us last night… Honor. She isn't… She isn't who she says she is. Who you think. I mean she is who she says she is but she's not…" he trailed off, frustrated. "She's not telling you the whole story."

I could feel my brows draw together at his statement as blank confusion replaced my fear, couldn't figure out how anything he'd just said was related to the conversation we'd been having. "What?"

"I can't… I can't think of any way to explain this that doesn't sound stupid," he muttered, almost to himself. "Just… Are you anywhere near a computer?"

"No… I mean, I have my iPhone but… Kurt, what is this about? Can't you just tell me?" I was feeling frustrated by his refusal to just say what he had to say.

"Put me on speakerphone and go to your browser," he directed instead of answering.

"Kurt, can't you-"

"Please," he interrupted, and again his tone was frantic but also pleading. "_Please_. I want to help you, Mr. Schue. Can you… Just trust me? For now?"

I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, more confused now than ever. "Of course I trust you. I just don't understand."

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. But just put me on speakerphone. I'll…" he gasped and swallowed audibly as though he was trying to hold back tears or hysterics. "I'll walk you through it. Okay?"

"Okay," I assured him, using my best comforting teacher voice. "It's going to be okay."

He laughed a little wildly, and I took that moment to look at my phone, switch it to speaker. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Okay. Okay." He inhaled deeply, for courage I suppose. "Okay. You need to go to your browser and go to… Wait, you need to be sitting down, first. Are you sitting down?"

"Yes…?" I was propped up against the headboard in Honor's room, actually, and I wasn't uncertain about the fact, but I was very uncertain what it had to do with… Anything, anything at all. What any of this had to do with anything.

"Good. Very good. Okay. Okay." Another deep breath. "Go to this website, it's called Keeping Taps. Just Keeping Tabs and then dot com… Spelled just like you'd think."

I began to type it out, slowly, as I'd never really gotten the hang of the touch screen keyboard. "What kind of website is this?"

"It's…" He hesitated. "Well, it's a gossip site. I check it every morning, they always have the best… Oh, god. Forget it. Did you type it in?"

I don't know how many more times I can say that I was confused, but oh my god I was. "Yes."

"Okay. Okay. Hit enter… It's… Ugh… It's right at the top, you'll… You'll know it when you see it. And I am so sorry about this, so sorry," he babbled. "Sorry I let it happen, sorry I have to tell you about it… Sorry I have to show you… I'm just so sorry."

The website loaded, and my confusion didn't abate. The story at the top seemed completely unrelated to anything at all.

x **X** x

**Norah Castle's "Private Pain"?**

_Summerview_ chanteuse **Norah Castle** is famously incommunicative about her personal life, so much so that she has never been conclusively linked to anyone (though rumors have persisted about encounters with actor **Michel Delaine**, indie frontman **Elliott Edrington** and basketball phenom **Chris Cassetti**). Many celebrities have praised her for her success in this, as well as her integrity and honesty.

_KT_ can exclusively report that Norah has everyone fooled.

x **X** x

I stopped reading, slightly irritated. "Honestly, Kurt, I don't care about gossip like this, and I don't understand-"

"Just keep reading," he whispered. "Just… I'm so sorry."

x **X** x

The pictures below, special to _KT_, clearly show Norah Castle in a steamy encounter last Wednesday with married high-school teacher William Schuester in his office at William McKinley High School in Lima, OH. We're impressed!

x **X** x

…Wait, what? I reread the sentence several times, trying to comprehend it, trying to understand the meaning of each word, and specifically why two of those words were my name. "What-" I began, and my voice was hoarse so I tried to swallow, found it impossible, started again. "What is this? What _is_ this? Kurt? What-"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, and I could tell he was crying. "I should have said something… I knew who she was, I figured it out Wednesday but she told me last night that she wasn't… She wouldn't… I don't know, anything like this, it wasn't supposed to happen…"

"Kurt, please! Calm. Down. I don't understand what's happening. I don't, you have to… Explain it to me, please, I can't think," I begged, and it was true. I wondered fleetingly if I was still asleep, having a dream or rather a nightmare, but it all felt too real, the weight of my phone in my hands, the buzzing in my ears, the frantic beating of my heart, the lightheadedness…

I could hear him taking deep meditative breaths on the other end of the line, thought that I'd love to do the same if only I could force air into my lungs, but somehow that seemed impossible at the moment. "Wednesday. Someone followed you, someone knew who she was… There are pictures," he added quietly. "I don't know… I don't know if you saw them, but…"

I reread the horrible sentence one more time, really forced myself to comprehend the phrase _the pictures below_. "Oh, god," I choked out, scrolling through the rest of the article to find the images.

x **X** x

Castle's rep confirms that she is currently in Lima, but will not comment on the photos, saying only "Ms. Castle experienced a personal tragedy recently, and hopes everyone will have the decency to allow her to mourn in private." Doesn't look like she's bothering to do anything in private…

See more pictures and read our exclusive coverage, including interviews with people close to the scandal, in the latest issue of _KT_, available today! And remember… As the situation unfolds, we're _Keeping Tabs_ on it!

x **X** x

My heart, which had been pumping with a force reminiscent of the one time I'd run a marathon, abruptly stopped when I saw them. There were three, and while they were taken from some distance and through a few different panes of glass, there was no mistaking what they depicted. Honor sat on my desk, head thrown back, eyes closed, clearly in the throes of ecstasy, while I stood between her legs, which were wrapped tightly around me. My face was hidden, some small comfort, but surely anyone who knew me would recognize the line of my back, the set of my shoulders, and it was a given that anyone I worked with would recognize my office. All of these thoughts filled my head in a rush, overwhelming me, but I tried to force myself to be calm, just as I'd told Kurt. This was not happening, could not be happening, because there was no one in the world who could possibly care what two random Midwesterners were doing in their private time. So the article wasn't real, the pictures didn't exist, and for a brief second I could almost believe I was hallucinating the whole thing.

But then my eyes focused on Honor's face, the features I'd grown so familiar with, the mouth that lit her face so beautifully every time it formed a smile, and lit me up too, and she just looked… Like herself, completely like herself, like the woman I loved, and I'd always known she looked like Norah Castle, a lot like Norah Castle, but she couldn't be… This, if nothing else, was impossible.

"They've made a mistake," I said, and my voice was eerily calm, though that serenity deteriorated as I continued. "They're just… Making this up, just because she looks a little like a celebrity, but she's not… She's just Honor, she lives here, she has a" _very empty, impersonal_ "house" _with no food in the fridge or car in the driveway,_ "a job" _that she never actually mentioned or discussed,_ "I mean… She lives here, she isn't…"

"Mr. Schue," Kurt interrupted my rambling, tone so very gentle. "I confronted her last night, she admitted it to me. And that's why this is my fault. I knew. I should have told you."

"It's just a mistake," I repeated, and this time I sounded desperate even to my own ears. But it had to be a mistake, had to be, because if it wasn't then she'd been lying to me every time I whispered her name, every time I looked at her, every time she smiled at me and that couldn't be true. It couldn't have happened again. I thought about Terri, seeing her every day for six months, watching her belly grow and really believing she was carrying my child, seeing it on a goddamn sonogram, and yes none of that had been true but this wasn't the same thing, Honor wasn't like her. Honor wasn't like her at all, and I loved her, and I knew she loved me even if she couldn't admit it yet and it was all a mistake. All I had to do was ask her. She'd tell me, and we'd handle this minor inaccuracy together, and everything would be fine.

I didn't believe any of that, as much as I wanted to, and the harder I tried to make that fantasy real the more I could feel my sanity unraveling. All of the rage I still felt towards Terri came rushing back, a devastating tidal wave, and the anger that had begun to trickle through my veins when I thought of Honor joined it, and I was drowning in my fury, drowning in their betrayals.

"Mr. Schue-" Kurt's voice barely registered, barely made any headway against the brutal current I was caught in.

"I have to go," I snapped before hanging up abruptly, too distraught to care that he'd undoubtedly believe my wrath was directed at him. Throwing myself out of bed, I lurched into my jeans, yanked them on hastily, zipped and buttoned them with shaking fingers before practically ripping the door off its hinges as I tore it open. I could hear voices coming from the foyer, one voice at least, and it was hers, and I was so… God, I was so angry, I'd never felt so angry, not ever.

"Honor!" I called, and flew down the stairs.

**TBC**


	19. Serenity

_For jilly74, xJuBee, Sierra-Jae, PlainJane1, barndoorstinson, Wemmamazing, Valentinas and Fidgetym. As always, thank you so much for your feedback and support! I hope this chapter does your dedication justice. And of course for _**traceit**_, who told me basically "Yes, you're doing it right... Just do it more, and better, k?"_

This is going to hurt.

**19**

She was standing in the foyer wearing nothing but my cardigan from the night before, turned towards the stairs as though to receive me. Her face was blank but her eyes were so deep and open, lost and vulnerable, and between their expression and the fact that my sweater was nearly a dress on her, she looked like a small child who'd just discovered the truth about Santa Claus (which didn't make a whole lot of sense under the circumstances, actually). I knew I had to ignore the fierce rush of tenderness I felt despite the white-hot fury burning in my chest at the sight of her, couldn't allow myself to be weak because if I did then everything I'd wanted to be and thought I could become with her by my side would be a lie. So I focused on thoughts of her betrayal and it wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be to steel myself against her, the fury inside me so strong it overpowered all else.

"Honor, what the _fuck_-" I began, my voice rough and broken, made raw by all of my anger, but before I could continue there was a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. Briefly distracted, I turned my head and froze with shock. "Emma?"

Unless I was hallucinating, Emma was standing with her hand on the doorknob, all color drained from her face, limbs stiff, already wide eyes wider than I'd ever seen them before. She was so completely out of place in this location and this scenario that I had no idea how to react to her presence. In a strange way, I felt… Divided, almost, as though I was two separate people feeling two separate sets of emotions. I was still filled with inexorable wrath, still furious, but I was also surprised, confused, curious, and those feelings were completely compartmentalized, none of my anger towards Honor lessened by my confusion, none of my confusion about Emma's incongruous appearance tainted by my anger.

"Will," she whispered, and as stiff as she was there was also a little movement, a nearly imperceptible trembling of her fingers and lips.

"Emma, what are you doing here?" The part of me that was so angry was not the part of me that was speaking now; if it had been, my voice would have been harsh, but I could never use that tone with Emma, had no reason to. Instead I spoke to her gently, the way I always did.

Before she could answer, Honor stepped between us, placed her hands on Emma's shoulders, and this confused me even more because how… What… Why? In my mind these two women were part of two completely different worlds, and seeing them together was just surreal. Nothing made any sense. She murmured something to Emma, something I couldn't quite make out since she was turned away from me, but I could see the reaction on Emma's face, the way all of her muscles seemed to grow even tighter at Honor's touch, the way she flinched as Honor spoke, the way she attempted to force her lips into a smile but simply couldn't.

"I know," she answered, responding to whatever I hadn't been able to hear. "I'm sorry."

This time Honor's words carried perfectly, and they sounded so fierce, almost as fierce as one part of me felt. "Not as sorry as I am."

Emma nodded, then moved her gaze from Honor's face to mine. Her expression was utterly devastated, destroyed and full of pain so sharp it pierced me too, and then she was slipping quietly out the door, closing it carefully behind her, and was gone.

The part of me that had been confused by her presence wanted to follow her, wanted to comfort her, but the part of me that was still furious with Honor was stronger, much stronger, and anyway there was still the matter of the three very graphic pictures of me posted on what was apparently one of the most popular gossip sites on the internet. I had questions related to Emma of course, the how and why and what of it all, but they did not take precedence so I forced all of them out of my mind, focused on the woman who had turned back to face me and now the part of me that was furious was the one in control.

"What the fuck is this, Honor?" I demanded, taking the last two stairs in one stride, approaching her menacingly, wanting to intimidate her because I was just so, so angry. She was holding something, a magazine, and I snatched it away from her. "I just got a call from Kurt, rambling about some website and you being Norah Castle and pictures and-" I stopped abruptly as I saw the cover of the magazine I'd taken. A headline proclaimed **Norah Castle Exposed!** above a large picture of the singer's face, but the sight that made my blood run cold was the small image off to the side, one that I knew from the website was certainly of me.

I felt weak in the knees then, was almost afraid I'd collapse, because until now there had been the tiniest sliver of hope inside of me that all of this really was a mistake, something she could explain, something we could fix. Seeing that cover, I finally accepted that all of this was real, and the despair that filled me at the knowledge matched or even surpassed my rage. Her eyes burned into mine, and I stared back, and all I could think was that I loved her so much, had been so open with her, and she had destroyed me with this. She had torn away all the delicate new skin that had formed over the wound Terri had dealt me, dealt me another even deeper one, and it all hurt so intensely I wondered if I would ever heal. If I even could.

Before I could gather my thoughts well enough to express any of these emotions in a coherent fashion, Honor spoke. "You're the man Emma has been in love with forever?" Her voice was choked and raw, as raw as mine had been, and I could not understand why that would be the question she'd ask now, when there were clearly far more important issues to deal with.

"How do you even know her? And not that it's any of your business, but yes, she's had feelings for me for awhile. And that is not the point." I added. "Emma has nothing to do with the fact that I'm apparently _fucking Norah Castle on the cover of a magazine_." Because, I mean, my god, I _was_, right there in black and white… Not even black and white, in full color, actually, in a place every single person I'd ever met, whose children I had ever taught, would see while waiting in the supermarket checkout line. My parents would see this, and… For a moment, I thought I might hyperventilate.

She laughed without humor, twisted her lips into a grimace of a smile. "Yeah, sorry about that. And actually the article is worse." (_What? How?_) "But let's talk about Emma. You gave her reason to believe you returned her feelings? You kissed her?"

The fact that she was interrogating me instead of explaining, apologizing, begging for my forgiveness, was infuriating. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I've said before that I'm not a violent person, and I'm not, I swear I'm not, but I'd never been so afraid I'd actually hurt someone as I was at that moment, not even when I'd confronted Terri, and I'm honestly not sure how I managed to avoid doing something I'd really regret. For one brief second I literally saw red, and in that second I wasn't afraid I'd hurt her; I _wanted_ to. She had betrayed me, shattered me, and she had no right to demand answers from me. None. I advanced on her, glaring.

"Don't you _dare_ try to make this about me," I spat. "You lied to me, every second we were together you were lying to me-"

"Withholding information is not the same thing as lying," she recited, perhaps from some guide to life I'd never been issued, because I was pretty sure they were, in fact, the exact same thing.

"Isn't it?" My voice was full of righteous anger, vibrating with passion, and I shoved the magazine in her face, forced her to look at it. "Sometimes it's worse. What you withheld led to this… My life, my job, all ruined." I listed these things as though I cared about them, which I suppose I did to an extent, but they were secondary to the way she'd broken my trust, broken my heart. "How could you do this?"

"How could you?" she demanded, and I looked at her with my eyebrows raised, completely incredulous. I could not believe she had the gall to imply that I'd done something wrong when she was the one who had lied, when I had never, ever lied to her. Never would have.

"I can understand fucking me once, take your mind off things, Emma never finds out, it's fine," she continued, and again I was shocked by the accusation in her tone, by the betrayal she clearly felt, as though I'd been unfaithful or… I don't even know, as though I'd done something to warrant the same level of fury I felt towards her. "Maybe even twice. I sincerely doubt she'd have let you do any of the things I let you do to me to her. So fine. But why the whole charade? Seeing me, being with me… Why bother, when you had Emma?"

Reaching out, I took her by the shoulders, digging my fingers in hard enough that I knew it must be painful. I was glad, because again there was something dark inside me urging me to hurt her, if only a little, and I needed her to look at me, to listen to me, to fucking focus on the real problem. "Forget. About. Emma. Tell me the truth, Honor." I paused when I remembered that she wasn't Honor at all, corrected myself. "Norah. Tell me all of it."

She pulled away and glared, her eyes burning with anger as intense as that coursing through my veins. "You know it. I'm Norah Castle," she admitted, and as much as I'd thought I'd finally accepted the truth of that, actually hearing it from her lips made it different, more real, more painful. I could remember that moment just a few days before- had it been such a short time since I'd met her?- when we'd introduced ourselves. _I'm Honor. And yes, it's a name._ She'd failed to mention that it wasn't _her_ name. _I think it's lovely._ Oh, god. "I came here to bury my mother. I saw you in the bar the night of the funeral… You were singing my song like you understood it. I brought you home and now we're here."

Her voice was like the night before, controlled, emotionless, and I wanted to be the same, but… Something about the way she said this weakened me, perhaps the whisper of sorrow in her voice when she spoke about her mother, the way it reminded me of her crying silently in my arms, or the nearly imperceptible softening of her tone when she mentioned my performance the night we met. I was still angry, more than angry, that hadn't changed; the weakness was in the fact that I didn't want to be. What I wanted was for her to ask- no, _beg_- for forgiveness so that I could give it to her, for her to tell me… Maybe that things had gotten out of control, that she'd meant to confess the truth, that she was sorry. If only she was sorry, everything else... We could fix it, somehow, and as bruised and broken as I was, I wanted us to.

"And you were going to tell me this _when_?" I concentrated on keeping my face blank, hiding all of my emotions from her because if she saw that I was wavering, if she knew… And I was wavering, couldn't help it, my rage slowly receding in the face of everything else I felt for her, in the face of the knowledge that she hadn't lost me over this.

There was something intense and unfathomable in her gaze as she held mine, a flicker of an emotion I couldn't define (and god damn her for feeling so many things I didn't understand), and I held my breath, waiting for her response. She shrugged her shoulders until I released her, and suddenly her expression was fierce, almost feral. "Never," she told me, the word knife sharp, and it struck me with that weapon's impact, searing, slicing pain. "I'm going back to Los Angeles tomorrow." And though it's not what she'd said, exactly, what I heard was _I'm leaving you_. Which… Hurt more than anything else I'd learned about her, anything else she'd told me.

"And last night was…?" I hated myself for how small my voice sounded, how vulnerable I knew I was to her, but I couldn't help it. Suddenly this wasn't just about her lying to me about her identity, wasn't about the scandal she'd embroiled me in. Despite all of that, I'd still believed that she loved me, because I still loved her, couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. But this… If it was true, if she'd planned to leave me without a word, without a backward glance, then I had misread everything, everything, that was worse than everything else, worse than anything else, and I was dizzy with fear because while it was true that she hadn't lost me, the more important truth was that I didn't want to lose her, couldn't lose her, needed her. And I was terrified.

"Fun, mostly. I've been trying to break into the acting business, needed some practice." She shrugged, utterly nonchalant. "I think I gave a fairly realistic performance, personally."

"I don't believe you," I whispered, shaking my head, though I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince her or convince myself. Not that I… No one does that, pretends to feel those kinds of emotions as some kind of acting exercise, not even actual actors, no one… There was no way… No, no, no. What had happened last night… It had been real, it had to have been real, because it had felt so real, and… And… And… God. Please god, please. Everything I felt was real, and everything she'd said… God, please, she had to have meant it.

She smiled, but it wasn't bright and it wasn't gentle; it was the visual equivalent of nails on a chalkboard, sharp and jarring, and I flinched at the sight of it. "I guess I'm better than I thought. Did you believe I could want you, care for you? Just give me the Academy Award right now. Why would I? There's nothing, Will, nothing that makes you so special."

I reeled back at her words, away from her, and for a brief moment it was two weeks ago and I was back in my kitchen, facing down Terri, being told that my marriage only worked because I didn't feel good about myself and knowing it was true. This was the same, or worse, because she'd told me I was special, made me feel special, and I'd thought… I don't know, I felt so bruised, so battered, so… God, I just felt everything. Shock that she could say any of that, disbelief that she meant it, longing to rewind the world and watch her take those words back. Anger, confusion, pain, and there was a split second where the violence that had filled me before returned and I wanted to lash out at her, hurt her physically as much as she had hurt me emotionally, a split second that still horrifies me where I genuinely believed that she deserved it, where I genuinely believed it would feel good to crush her.

But that passed quickly, thank god, and drained away until finally all that was left was… Serenity. Strange, I know, but suddenly I just felt calm as an epiphany washed over me and I realized something: I didn't care. I didn't care that she'd lied, I didn't care what she'd said, I didn't care if it was true or if she believed it was. All I cared about was her, having her in my life, and if she didn't think I was special it didn't matter because I wasn't, knew I wasn't, had always known. There was no denying what I felt for her, no denying that I loved her, and I understood with a desperation I cannot describe that nothing else mattered if she'd just let me feel that for her, let me love her until she had to love me back.

"I could forgive you for this, you know," I said, pleased my voice wasn't nearly as desperate as I felt. "For all of this, if you wanted me to." If only she wanted me to, I could not only forgive but forget.

She rolled her eyes at me the way I sometimes rolled my eyes at the immaturity of certain students. "I don't. All of this was becoming very boring," she answered, and she was so… Distant. For the first time she truly sounded like the high-powered celebrity I supposed she was, and even though she was standing right in front of me she was so very far away. "Go crawling back to Emma, hope that she'll forgive _you_. I sure as hell wouldn't."

I told myself she didn't mean it, couldn't mean it, even as my heart stopped and my blood froze. "Honor," I whispered, so distraught I didn't even care about the tremor in my voice. "Don't do this."

She laughed, cold and hard and deeply unpleasant, and took the magazine I was still holding, posed next to it, and now she didn't just sound like that high-powered celebrity, she _was_ her, really was, because it was so obvious that the woman on the cover and the woman standing before me were one and the same and how had I never realized? I was such an idiot, for so many reasons. "That's not my name. I'm Norah Castle, maybe you've heard of me?" She tossed the tabloid casually and it landed at my feet. "I'm going to take a shower… I'd like you off the premises by the time I get out, if you please."

"And what about this?" I kicked at the magazine, but I wasn't really referring to that. I was referring to my life, not the life she'd ruined with this scandal, but the life that was hardly worth living if she wasn't in it. Everything the scandal would take from me, I could learn to live without, everything except her, but she… She'd betrayed me, ruined me, destroyed me, and now she was doing something even worse and just… Leaving me. "What am I supposed to do about this?"

She turned away, clearly bored, clearly finished with the conversation. Clearly finished with me. "Honestly, Will? I have no idea. Nor do I care,"

I watched her walk up the stairs, thankful to feel only shock because the pain that I knew would follow would certainly be unbearable, and aside from anything else, when I cry I like to cry alone.

**TBC**


	20. Bad News

**20**

_Keeping Tabs… The Tabloid _Keeping Tabs_ On The Stars!_  
12.01.09

**Norah Castle Exposed!**

Multi-platinum recording artist **Norah Castle** has often been praised for her poise in the spotlight and her absolute insistence on personal privacy. As a very successful woman in the arts, she is looked up to by young girls and seen as a role model, and of course she cultivates this persona. So it's only natural that the world was shocked by _KT_'s exclusive steamy pictures of Castle _en flagrante_ with married Ohio high school teacher William Schuester in his office on campus. Interviews with sources close to both Castle and Schuester reveal the true extent of Norah's deceit. _KT_ is keeping tabs on it!

**Who Is William Schuester?**

According to one anonymous source, identified only as a colleague of Schuester's, the handsome Spanish teacher and glee club director is not only married, but his wife of five years was actually expecting their first child. "Apparently the stress of this horrible discovery has caused her to miscarry. It's a real tragedy."

Reports on Schuester are conflicted, with the source stating "There have been rumors about him and a co-worker here for over a year. Her engagement to another teacher ended abruptly a few weeks ago and everyone knows he was the cause. There have also been some whispers about his inappropriate closeness with his female students. Ms. Castle is just one in a long line of women to fall for his smarmy, greasy-haired charm."

However, according to sophomore Rachel Berry, 16, who is a member of the glee club and one of Schuester's protégés, everyone has the story all wrong. "Mr. Schue is an inspirational teacher, and his support is the main reason we were able to defeat our competition to win Sectionals. Well, and my years of extensive training of course."

The anonymous source is not convinced. "Of course she'd say that, she's in love with the home permed lothario." According to several reports, Berry and Schuester sang the ballad _Endless Love_ together "very convincingly" in October.

"I'm just saying that she was seen leaving Mr. Schuester's home late at night on at least one occasion, and she gets every solo. So maybe she's not such a victim, either," the source reveals. Officials at William McKinley High will no doubt wish to investigate such claims.

**Norah Castle's Callous Ways!**

**Edrington** frontman **Elliott Edrington**, who rumor once romantically linked with Norah Castle, is inclined to give the teacher the benefit of the doubt. "I'm certain Norah pulled her usual tricks and seduced him, ruining his marriage and possibly ending his wife's pregnancy. She has no empathy and no respect for anyone's feelings."

Several reports seem to confirm Edrington's accusations, including one from Lima, OH native Beatrice Shaw, a close friend of Castle's recently-deceased mother. "That girl simply broke Prudence's heart! She left one night when she was only 16, without a word to anyone, and everyone was frantically searching for her for months. Finally a little friend of hers received an insulting postcard from her, so at least we knew she was safe."

Mrs. Shaw added "Prudence never saw or spoke to her daughter again, even though it was her dying wish."

Funeral director Mortimer Huckston, also of Lima, OH, sheds some additional light on the subject. "I was the one arranging her mother's funeral, so I called her to discuss the details. After I explained several different options, she simply shouted 'Just put the body in a box and put the box in the ground, how hard can it be?' and hung up on me."

Other sources at the Garden City Christian Union Church, where Ms. Castle's mother was buried, claim she didn't even attend the funeral. "She wasn't here," one church member stated flatly. "Believe me, I'd have noticed Norah Castle!"

Castle's rep had no additional comments, saying only "Ms. Castle does not discuss her private life with the press."

Just know that we're on to you Norah, and so are your disappointed former fans!

**TBC**


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